


The Road to Hell...

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cross-Generation Relationship, Felching, M/M, NC-17, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter knows he's a lying coward but hopefully no one else will find out. Not his family and certainly not Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Hell...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Titti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Company Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686623) by [gryffindorJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ). 



> Written for hp_yule_balls at LiveJournal as a gift for titti, who left the prompt: A story about James coming out of the closet to his family. Warned for angst but over-all the story is not angsty.
> 
> Edit: I wrote a prequel to this story for HP Cross Gen Fest. You're not missing out on anything if you don't read it just some added flavor to this universe. The story is called "The Company Ink" and if you've read this story then you know exactly who the company ink is. ;)

"Bloody hell! Come on! Pass interference! His hands were all over him, you blind fuck!"

James' head snapped up so quickly his neck immediately twinged. He hadn't realized he was falling asleep. He stifled a yawn as he rubbed at his still smarting nape.

"What's wrong with your neck?" Draco said, turning and looking at him.

"Nothing, it's—"

"What? No! You're paid millions of fucking dollars to hold onto the ball. _My_ millions, you miserable shit."

James rolled his eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if this was the sort of thing Draco said when James was playing. Granted, James played Quidditch for a team owned solely by Draco and they were watching an American football team that Draco was only one-eighth very silent owner of, so the things Draco shouted when the Cannons played had to be _much_ worse.

"Who are we rooting for again?" James said, his eyes watering as he tried to stifle another yawn. "The ones who just lost the ball, right?"

"Yes," Draco said dismissively.

"Where do they play?"

"A stadium," Draco said, not taking his eyes off the telly and taking a sip of his vodka tonic.

"Ha, ha," James replied.

"Some city in America between New York and California, one of the ones in the middle."

"Right."

James edged his way off the sofa and stood, stretching his arms straight over his head, back, and neck cracking as he did. He wondered where his shoes were; he wanted to slip them on and head home. He was knackered.

Draco was still completely distracted by the _football_ match and wouldn't miss him. James had been over before when one of the teams Draco had an interest in was playing, and Draco was always enraptured by the match.

Draco didn't seem to particularly care for American football and didn't know too many details about it. What he did know was that American football was a billion-dollar industry so he had wisely worked his way into becoming part owner of what James was sure was a very good team. Draco wasn't stupid; he knew business and he knew success and he knew sports and he knew how to make all those things work together. It was one of the reasons the legends of the Cannons being the joke of the league were just that to James – _legends_. He had never in his lifetime, or at least as far as he could remember, ever known the Cannons as anything but a decent team that always had a legitimate shot at the play-offs if not the championship. They were even better now that James played for them.

"What are you doing?" Draco practically snapped at James as he crouched, looking for his shoes under the side table.

"Looking for my shoes," James said now, checking under the sofa.

"Kitchen," Draco said shortly. "Good hit!"

James turned and looked at the telly as it showed a replay of what Draco had deemed a 'good hit'. The player throwing the ball got blindsided by another player from the other team who was at least twice his size. James winced as the player’s head snapped with the impact and his limbs bent in unnatural, painful-looking directions.

"Violent sport," James muttered.

"No more violent than Quidditch. How many concussions, black eyes, broken collar bones, wrists and noses have you had? And you wear a lot _less_ padding and no helmet."

"Good point, bunch of wimps," James said, touching his nose reflexively, grateful for good healing charms as it was still as straight and bump-free as it had ever been.

"Where are you going?" Draco snapped as James walked towards the door.

"My shoes. Remember?"

"You aren't leaving," Draco said. It was clear his words were not a request, but were more in line with an order.

"We've had two a day training sessions and I'm knackered. I was falling asleep sitting here. Plus you're busy. I can go. We'll see each other tomorrow or Tuesday," James said, trying to show Draco he really wasn't upset and was honestly just very tired.

"Did you hurt your neck during training?" Draco said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him.

"What? Oh, right, no," James said touching his neck. "When I was almost asleep my head snapped up in a funny way."

"No, you had fallen asleep. You'd been asleep for about twenty minutes. I thought maybe I bore you," Draco said with a bit of humour playing on his lips.

"You hardly bore me," James said, trying not to blush as he thought of what they'd done the moment they Apparated into Draco's back garden earlier that evening. What Draco had done then was as far from boring as you could possibly get.

"Come sit back down, I'll rub your neck," Draco said, scooting forward on the sofa and spreading his knees apart for James to fit between them.

James looked pointedly at Draco's spread legs and raised a brow suggestively. "Is it really a neck rub you're offering me or something else completely?"

Draco chuckled deeply in his throat. "The offer was sincere, but if it's only a neck rub I'll leave that up to you."

James settled down between Draco's legs; all thoughts of his shoes and exhaustion were completely extinguished.

*

The sun wasn't up yet when James awoke, but its light had already begun to spread across the sky. James could see a smattering of dark pink, almost reddish clouds off in the distance. _Bloody fantastic._ Not only was he going to suffer through two rounds of training today, but it would be done in the rain.

Thoughts of cold rain made James snuggle deeper into the bed and his pillow. Not surprising, he found Draco was right up next to him, spooning him. Draco's chest pressed to James' back, legs pressed against his legs, and arm along James' side ready to grip him tight if he moved. Draco, James had quickly discovered, was what one might call a 'cuddler'. In fact James did call Draco that, not only because it was true, but because Draco would make an awful wincing face when James pointed it out. He thought by James calling him that it made him sound vulnerable or weak; James thought it made him sound warm and comforting.

James loved sleeping in Draco's bed. It was large, warm and soft, with a rich cream comforter, smooth luscious sheets, thick fluffy down pillows and soft brown velvet throw pillows. Everything about the bed beckoned you towards it. Even the hard dark wood roll top headboard was inviting. No sooner had James seen it than the thought of pushing Draco against it and licking his arse entered James' mind—though he ended up being the one pressed against it that time around.

Despite loving the bed so much and loving being in it with Draco, James did not stay at Draco's townhouse as often as he liked. If he could, he reckoned, he would stay there every night, and Draco had given every indication that he would be fine with that as well. Their relationship was still fairly young though, only four months along, and James was currently living with his parents. They weren't intrusive enough to set a curfew or ask about the two or three nights a week when James didn't come home, but if he got too careless they would start to ask questions or assume that he would soon be bringing someone round for dinner. That was a gigantic leap James wasn't ready to even contemplate making yet.

Draco's grip on James suddenly tightened and pulled him closer. Draco nuzzled in on the nape of James' neck. James could feel the rasp of Draco's cheek against his skin. Draco's breath was still even and soft; he wasn't awake yet, but the press of Draco's flesh made James suddenly wish that he was. James lazily began to stroke his already hard cock as he thought about Draco's scruffy face, less than perfect morning hair, and the sharp colour of his eyes.

James circled his balls with the tips of his fingers then stroked up his cock again, squeezing just below the crown of it then back down. He wondered if he could wank holding still enough so as not to wake Draco up, but if he woke Draco up, that would be better. James rocked into his fist, moaning softly in the back of his throat at thoughts of Draco's pale hands wrapping around his own and bringing him to completion.

Draco's hand slid across his chest, rubbing his right nipple with the pad of his thumb. He was awake now. James rocked into his fist again, this time moaning louder, encouraging Draco to join him. Draco's other hand moved to James' hip and suddenly gripped it tightly, holding him still. Draco pushed his own pelvis to James' cleft, his hard cock pushing firmly against him. It was an invitation, "Do you want this?" it said. James pushed himself back against Draco's cock; of course he wanted it. Draco groaned in the back of his throat as he pushed firmly against James' arse and reached to wrap his own hand around James' cock.

They rocked back in forth in time with each other, forward into their fists then back, pushing against Draco's cock. Draco hadn't said a word yet; James didn't expect him to. Draco was usually very quiet in the morning, save for a groan and panting. James had just begun to settle into the pace when Draco's released his hand from James' cock to push against James' back and knee him in the back of his thigh, urging him to roll over. James tried not to chuckle; Draco was also eager as hell in the morning. James was endlessly in wonder of all the facets of Draco's sexual personality. Impatient to the point of juvenileness in the morning and other times, making James prepare him and fuck him with such a deliberate slowness that James felt as if his body was ripping apart and he was on the verge of tears with need.

James rolled, lying prone on the bed. Draco kneed James' thighs apart impatiently and lay down on top of James, sliding one hand under him across his chest to hold James tightly to him. He thrust hard against James, pushing his cock into his crease. James moaned as Draco rolled desperately against him over and over, his own cock sliding against the mattress.

Draco's pace quickened and he nuzzled against James' neck, chaffing him with his stubble, and then dug his teeth into James' tender flesh. He bit James _hard_ eliciting a violent push back from James. "Oh God, yes!" James cried out. Draco was always a little rough in the morning. He held James in a tight, bruising grip and pushed his hips firmly to him, grinding himself again and again to James' arse. Draco slid his teeth across James' shoulder. James was desperate to come. He tried to slide his hand to his cock to give it the one stroke it needed but Draco pushed him too firmly to the bed to get his hand under him.

James began to whimper and thrust erratically, desperate to get friction enough to come. Draco growled and pulled back on his knees, bringing James up with him. Draco held tight to his hip with one hand and, gratefully, wrapped the other around James' cock. One, two strokes and James was gone, groaning as he came in a rush on Draco's hand, spilling onto the bed. The last pulses of orgasm hadn't even left him yet as Draco pushed him once more flat to bed.

Draco wiped his come-covered hand down James' crevice, sliding one finger across his entrance, causing James to moan. Draco began to slide faster against James now, panting heavily in his ear. James pushed back, urging Draco on.

"God, yes," Draco ground out as his cock pulsed. Come splashed down James' arse to his upper thighs. Merlin, it felt good.

Draco rolled off of James' back and pulled James to him. James looked up at him, blinking. Draco's skin was still flush from sleep, or maybe it was the exertion. Draco tenderly ran his thumb across James' cheek. James leaned in, kissing him softly on the lips. The kiss was opposite of what they just had done. It was slow and tender. The anticipation of making one another come now satisfied, they took their time, soft lips and teasing tongues. Draco threaded his fingers through James' hair as James delicately touched his chest.

"I think you may have some bite marks," Draco said apologetically as he settled his head on James' shoulder.

"Pay back, I suppose, for the other day," James shrugged.

"Yeah, except you won't feel yours every time you sit down like I did."

"You could have healed it."

"That wasn't a complaint," Draco said. James could feel Draco's cheek plumping against his shoulder as he grinned.

"I have to leave soon. I need to run home and get a change of clothes before I go over to training."

"It's all right, I've got a breakfast meeting. We should shower before you go." Draco untucked himself from against James’ shoulder and slipped out of bed.

James rolled out of bed, stretching his arms straight over his head. He looked longingly down at the bed, wanting nothing more than to stay in it for at least another hour. After it was clean, of course.

"Want me to get that?" James said, picking up his wand and gesturing at the mess of tangled sheets and come.

"Fine. Don't bother making it, though. The maid is coming today," Draco said, wrapping himself in a paisley silk dressing gown.

"I still don't understand why you don't have a house elf," James affecting a pout.

Draco gave James a withering look. "If you really miss Hogwarts cooking that badly you can always go back. Or if you want, Susan's SuperSwift Wizzie-Clean might have a cooking service as well."

"No, that's fine, I think I'll survive," James said as he followed Draco to the bathroom.

"I'm not going to shower," James said as Draco started the shower with a flick of his wand.

James began opening and closing drawers looking for the toothbrush he stowed somewhere around there. He really should have used that quick teeth cleaning charm Al told him about, but it tickled his lips so badly the one time he’d used it that he ended up spitting suds everywhere before giggles overtook him.

Draco walked up behind James, rested his chin on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around his waist. James looked at him in the mirror and smiled. "It's in the holder right there," Draco said with a flick of his eyes towards the toothbrush holder on the counter. It was there, right next to Draco's. As James reached to get it, Draco didn't relax his hold.

"Why aren't you showering? By this afternoon you'll smell of come and sweat if you don't…you'll need to come straight to my office if that's the case."

"Perv," James snorted. "I can't go about smelling like you all day. If I use your soap then someone will wonder why I smell like the boss."

"What sort of player sniffs me enough to know my scent?" Draco asked, clearly repulsed by the thought.

"Me," James said with a winning smile.

"Poor excuse," Draco said, pulling away. "Shower. Now," he added with a quick slap to James' arse before turning back to the shower. James put down the toothbrush and followed.

*

James walked about the house searching for his clothes. He had found his socks in the bedroom, shirt on the stairs, and jeans and pants in Draco's study. He was still missing his hoodie and his shoes. He and Draco usually kept to the first or second floor of the townhouse; James hadn't bothered to look anywhere else. The second floor was entirely the master bedroom and bath, the first floor had Draco's study and a very large sitting area. Some nights they sat out on the balcony sharing a fag and drinking. James smiled thinking of the way Draco's Adam's apple would bob as he threw his head back laughing and blowing smoke into the night sky.

James didn't bother to check the third floor. It had an informal sitting room that was mostly used for games: various card games, a Gobstone set where the stones were each as big as James' fist, and other wizarding games from all over the world that James had never seen nor heard of, including one from Africa with carved tribal masks that, oddly enough, James found kinky. There was also the most beautiful Wizarding Chess set James had ever seen. They had played once and James had lost _badly_. He would never tell anyone; his godfather, who had taught him to play, would be mortified. There were also two bedrooms up there, one of which had been Scorpius' growing up, but James didn't know the last time Scorpius had even been there. Draco still called it Scorpius' room, though.

James went downstairs and checked the dining room, but he thought the last time he'd been in that room was for a team dinner. He was searching about the reception room when James noticed for the first time that it was the only floor without a single telly. Draco had at least four televisions in the house, but it was hard to tell, though. He kept them artfully hidden so as not to appear gauche. Televisions were a necessary evil of what he did for a living.

Lucius Malfoy's sport had been politics, and he wanted the same for his only son. Draco, reformed Death Eater that he was, had no stomach for politics and after the war he certainly wasn't welcome. He took his Malfoy charm and money, and his sport became sports.

Draco had more than tripled the Malfoy family net worth in the past fifteen years alone. Or if the rumours James had heard were true then he had. James would never ask for sure—he did have some social grace, and it would be rude to ask Draco about money. The most important part was that Draco had taken a sullied name and made it matter more than ever.

Draco had started off small, taking part ownership in the Montrose Magpies. He loved the taste of it and soon thereafter bought The Cannons, something that stung Uncle Ron still to this day. Investments in cricket, Premier League, and Merlin knows what other sports, were all parts of what Draco did now. Most of his business was in the wizarding world but he did enough in the Muggle that he could keep a whole wizarding law office in bottomless amounts of work. James hardly knew all the details, but for Draco to do so much business with Muggles posing as a Muggle himself he needed endless documentation and say-so from the Ministry. Especially when it came to sports, they had to ensure he was not magically fixing the games at all. James doubted Draco cared for working with Muggles--he was all wizard--but there was too much opportunity there for Draco to turn his back on it.

James went down to the lower ground floor to check for his shoes there. He walked through another reception room to the kitchen. The kitchen with its cream cabinets and black marble counters was gleaming, as always. Draco entertained enough that he had need of a proper kitchen for the hired chef to work in. Draco did cook a handful of things, always over the top with delicate, perfectly balanced flavours, followed by rich creamy desserts. It was always enough to leave James full for a week. Other than that, Draco could do little else. Cup of tea, maybe some coffee, but Draco couldn't even manage toast; it was either warm bread or burnt to look like roofing shingle every time he tried.

He spotted his shoes by the door leading to the conservatory. He had forgotten they were muddy from walking through the back garden when they came in the house the previous night and he’d left them there by the door. Draco never brought James through the front door. Their relationship was a complete secret to everyone.

It would be untoward for the owner of the team to date one of his players, and James wasn't about to let anyone know he was seeing Draco Malfoy. After months, maybe even years, of flirtation they had fallen into bed together last spring when the Cannons were in Holland for an exhibition match. James hadn't looked back since. But he wasn't daft enough to look too far forward either. Evenings sneaking in the back or through the Floo to be spent in alone together here was exactly what James was comfortable with. He wouldn't change a thing about it.

"Coffee? Tea?" Draco said, walking into the kitchen, the heels of his shoes clicking on the floor. James glanced up from tying his trainer to look at him. He must have had a Muggle meeting this morning. Wearing black trousers with a white shirt, he looked crisp and classic and absolutely fuckable. James sometimes hated dress robes and all that they hid. There was nothing like a pair of fine trousers cut perfectly across the arse.

"God, you look good," James said, standing up.

"I'll take that as a no," Draco said, banging around the drawers, looking for something. One would think he didn't know this room at all.

"No, I'll be fine. You will be wearing that later though, won't you?" James sidled up to Draco, sliding his hand across the soft wool of Draco's trousers and firmly grabbing his arse.

"I hadn't planned on changing until I got home. You are welcome to be here when I do," Draco replied, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

"Bollocks," James huffed as he bent to bite along Draco jaw, breathing in his aftershave. "Can't, have a family thing. Wednesday. You can wear that again on Wednesday, can't you?"

Draco hummed, tilting his head into James' mouth. "Perhaps. I've got a fair number of items in my wardrobe you might find interesting. We'll see what I can come up with."

"Lucky me," James said, kissing Draco's jaw one more time before pulling back.

"What family thing do you have?" Draco asked casually as he found the bags of tea he was looking for and put one in a cup.

"Nothing really. Teddy's back for a bit and we're having him over for dinner is all."

"Right, that reminds me," Draco said, pouring steaming water into his cup. "My son is going to be in London next weekend."

"That's not a problem, we've got a match and I can try to find a flat. I have enough to keep me occupied for a few days," James said easily.

"I was hoping you would accompany us to dinner after the match, so you can meet him."

James said the first thing that came to his bewildered mind. "I know Scorpius. We went to school together."

"I know, I'm not thick. I _assumed_ you weren't friends though. Am I wrong?"

"No, not really friends. Knew who he was. Kicked his house's arse in Quidditch a few times or so," James said.

"Smug git."

"You love it."

"I do."

Draco was silent for a moment, stirring milk into his tea. James thought that the idea was gone. James didn't want to be a part of anything awkward, and being trotted out as Draco's boyfriend would certainly be that.

"I'm glad you know Scorpius." Draco took a sip of his tea, then put the cup delicately back onto the saucer. "It will only be my mother you are meeting for the first time."

"What? Your mother?" James tried not to sound suddenly hysterical but he got the sense from the look Draco was giving him he was doing a very bad job of it.

"Yes. I think it's time you should meet her."

"Is this normal for you? Four months means it's time to meet the whole family?"

"Normal? No." Draco frowned into his cup, shaking his head. "I don't parade every lover I have in front of my mother after four months."

"Every lover? Just how many do you have?" James felt his eyes go wide and he put his hands on his hips the way his mother would have.

"Calm down," Draco said, meeting his eyes. "You are the only one. All I meant was it wasn't my practice to take every single person home after a certain amount of time."

"Who was the last person you took home to meet your mother?" James demanded, feeling suddenly very jealous.

"Honestly?"

"Yes, Draco. _Honestly_."

"Astoria."

James was grateful he had declined something to drink because at this point he would have dropped whatever he had in his hand. "Your _wife_?"

"Ex-wife, and yes. Are you surprised?"

"Surprised doesn't begin to explain how I feel," James said, feeling panic rise up in his chest. This, this…this thing with Draco was suddenly more serious than James had even dreamed about. Draco's mother? Merlin's cock and balls, this was serious. Draco had been divorced for nearly fifteen years.

Narcissa Malfoy was everything to Draco. He spent every Saturday with her and did anything at her beck and call. Not that she abused that, but still, Draco would do anything. This might have been because she had been a widow for the past four years, but James didn't know; Draco never spoke of his father.

"You aren't ready to come meet my family," Draco said evenly.

"No, it's you—it's—well. Damn it. It's if I meet yours, then you should come see mine and I'm not sure they're ready for that yet," James said, answering as honestly as he could.

Draco's face seemed to have gone pink, but that could have been from the hot tea. "I understand. Perhaps next time then," he said very calmly.

"Right. Soon or next time, whatever," James said, the words sounding like a horrible lie in his ears. "I should get going—I— your son and your mum! I know how much they mean to you and it's scary. In one stroke everyone knows we're together. How do I walk into work the next day? At the start of the season, no less." This wasn't the time to really talk about this but James couldn't help it; his feelings often rushed right out of his mouth.

"Is that all?" Draco said flatly.

James exhaled deeply and mumbled, "I don't like sharing. Can't we be only you and me for a little while longer?"

Draco breathed in loudly through his nose and looked James straight in the eye. James stared back hard. He wanted to make sure Draco _thought_ James meant what he said.

"Yes, of course, I understand," Draco finally said. "You never had anything of your own, so you have to act like a spoilt arse when something is finally yours."

"Quite the pair, aren't we? Two selfish peas in our own pod," James replied. "And you are the last thing I want to share." Appealing to Draco's selfish side worked wonders. He would forget about everything else.

"We'll talk about it after the season." James nodded to this, and the relief of knowing he had seven months to figure it all out washed over him.

Draco's face softened as James brushed his lips against his cheek. "We'll go on holiday together—Italy. It will be warm and you can lie naked on the patio of our villa, get those delicate freckles on your shoulders."

"All this while you burn to a crisp," James grinned.

"I _do not_ burn."

"Keep telling yourself that. Your skin is as delicate as a baby's bottom. A very pale baby's bottom."

"You know nothing about my bottom."

"I know _everything_ about your bottom," James said nibbling on Draco's ear. "I'll show you on Wednesday." James brushed his fingers against the tenting fabric of Draco's trousers.

"I'm ready for you to show me now," Draco growled. "Leave now before I can't think straight and you're paying a fine for missing practice."

"It's worth it," James breathed in Draco's ear, but he listened anyway, giving Draco one last kiss and turning to go.

"Wednesday, James," Draco called after him.

James took deep breaths, trying to think of things to get his erection to go away before he went home. He felt a rush of relief as he realized he'd escaped a dinner with Draco's family. That would have been disastrous. With that thought, his relief was quickly replaced by horrible gut wrenching guilt. He shouldn't be proud of himself for weaselling out of that dinner; he had done it with half-truths and lies. As he took out his wand to Disapparate, he fully felt like the complete cowardly shit he was.

***

Home was chaos, as was usual for a Monday morning. Albus was yelling that the cuff to his robes was frayed, Mum was running about still in her dressing gown, Dad kept asking over and over if the dog had been fed, and Lily was yelling from her room for everyone to be quiet since she was trying to sleep. James had Apparated unnoticed into his room and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. People sniffing him or no, it still made him feel uncomfortable to smell of Draco and suddenly get turned on whenever he caught a whiff of himself. He also had to shave; _Mr. Malfoy_ had a policy of players being clean-shaven, properly dressed, and well-mannered.

Towel still around his waist, James walked out of the bathroom just as Albus was passing.

"Long night? Get much sleep?" he said with a smirk.

"Slept like a baby," James replied back.

"A good tumble will do that for you."

James rolled his eyes, turning to go to his room.

"Hello! What's this? Not just a good tumble, but an aggressive one," Albus said, reaching out and firmly pressing the bruise on James' shoulder. James hissed from the sudden jolt of pain and pushed his brother's hand away. "She didn't use her teeth anywhere else did she?" Albus grinned, ducking a playful blow from James.

"Go away, Al," James said.

"Teeth on your knob isn't the best feeling," Albus said with mock sincerity.

"You are a depraved little twat," James said, walking to his room. Albus just kept laughing behind him. Albus was a complete perv. Everything could be turned into some sort of innuendo or lowbrow joke. Everything. Albus watched his mouth around Mum, Dad and other grown-ups besides Uncle Charlie or Uncle George, but every now and again he slipped. Their mum blamed James for teaching his _baby_ brother such things, but James took no ownership of Al's sense of humour. He was a completely sick little bastard all on his own.

James looked at the bite mark in the mirror as he dressed. Albus would be making comments about that for at least the next year. _Idiot_.

No one else was in the kitchen but Dad when James walked in to get a cup of coffee. The dog was hungrily slurping at his bowl full of food while Dad ate toast and thumbed through the paper.

"No one had fed the dog?" James asked, sitting down at the table.

His dad shrugged and said, "Maybe. No one was answering me, so I fed him. An extra helping won't hurt."

James looked down at the old portly mutt, Gellert, and remarked, "Yeah, I don't think he can get much fatter."

"Exactly," Harry said, looking up from the paper and at James for the first time.  
"How was training yesterday? Two-a-days, right?"

"Fine and yeah, till next week when we move to our regular training schedule for the season, thank God."

"We were at your grandparent's house for awhile yesterday. Everyone asked about you."

James gave a nod in reply, not saying anything, but he knew what Harry was really saying was that the minute he wasn't practicing all the time meant his presence at family functions was expected.

"You had a late night, though. Did you get to bed?"

James took a sip of his coffee to give himself a moment to think about how to reply to that. James was old enough to know he couldn't effectively sneak in or out, but that didn’t mean he stopped trying. Damn his dad and his Auror instincts—he knew everything that went on in the house, whether he said so or not.

"Got enough sleep, but I was too knackered and tipsy to risk Apparating home. I stayed over at my mate's house," James said, going with the most believable lie.

"They're a biter," Albus said, entering the kitchen and sitting down right next to James. James smacked his brother on the back of his head, glaring angrily at him.

"As long as you're careful," Harry said, shaking his head at both his sons.

"Don't worry, Dad," James said with affection. Telling his dad that would do no good. Even though Harry knew all the comings and goings of his kids, he always worried and wanted them to be happy.

"Oh, goob, you're m'all min here," Ginny said, rushing into the kitchen with her wand clutched between her teeth while she put up her hair.

"Lily's not," Albus pointed out.

"I've already left her a list, so I don't need to talk to her," Ginny said, flicking her wand to start a fresh pot of coffee. "Harry, honey, can you pick up something to drink for tonight? And Albus, make sure the house is picked up when you get home—"

"It's only Teddy, Mum," James said before she could get to his task. "He was in Russia not Mars, and he's been to our house enough to know we leave shoes out and cloaks on the back of chairs."

"Then pick up the house for me, Albus, and Harry, the wine is for me too. James, don't worry about anything. I know practice takes a lot out of you."

James smiled smugly at his brother, who glowered at him and said, "Mummy's boy" under his breath.

"Harry, it's half past eight," Ginny said, looking at the clock.

"Shit! I'm late!" Harry crammed the rest of his toast in his mouth, stood from the table, and kissed Ginny swiftly on the cheek, briefly touching her arse in such a way that made Albus and James exchange nauseated looks. Parents should not be sexual, ever.

"I need to get some stuff from my room, then I should go," James said, standing.

"You haven't eaten," his mum said with her brows knit together.

"Team breakfast," James said.

"It's not something horrible, is it?" Ginny asked, still looking like she would fry up eggs in an instant if James even hesitated in answering.

"No, it's the private chef. The one Mr. Malfoy hired for us last year."

"Yes, of course," Ginny said, hugging James.

"Bye, Albus. Enjoy the stale buns in the St Mungo's tea room," James said with a smirk. Albus only looked back at him, pushing has glasses up with two fingers.

James didn't have to be at the practice facility for another thirty minutes, but he was feeling anxious about the conversation with Draco that morning and needed to calm his nerves and focus before he got to practice. If he seemed distracted in the meeting or, God forbid, distracted while training, Lynch would have his bollocks in a vise before James dismounted his broom.

He slowly pushed open Lily's door, hoping she was back asleep. He peered around the door and saw her bright hair sticking out of the top of her blankets, but the rest of her was huddled underneath and unmoving. He saw her bag hanging from the corner of her wardrobe, firmly closed tight. The third floorboard in her room creaked something awful; he could have stepped over it and crept to the bag easily but he didn’t want to risk the sense of movement waking her. James slipped out his wand and with the tiniest flick undid the clasp on her bag. With a minute swish he opened the flap, then Summoned the pack of fags he knew she would have in there. They were _Pixies' Premiums_ , by far not what he would have preferred--only witches smoked that kind--but he was nicking them after all so he couldn't protest.

He took two from their pouch, slipped one behind his ear and another between his lips, then Banished the pack back into Lily's bag. He closed the bag but didn't bother clasping it. He pocketed his wand and was about to close the door when a mumble came from the bed: "With the Galleons you make, you can afford to buy your own."

"More rewarding taking yours."

Lily rolled over with a hmph and said something about hexing his arse shut, but James didn't catch it all as he closed the door. He walked down to his room, firmly closed the door, opened his window, and lit the fag between his lips.

He took a long, slow inhale then exhaled, wishing the issues with Draco away.

James liked Draco a lot. There were times when he felt he might even love Draco and that Draco loved him too. James took everything about their relationship seriously—he wasn't fooling about with anyone else, didn't look at anyone else. Every chance he got he was with Draco. Every. Chance. One of the things James liked about them together was that it was a secret. A player dating the owner of a team would have terrible repercussions of many kinds. The press, oh God, the press would be vicious. Harry Potter's gay son plonking his boss. That would be bad enough on its own, but there would also be his teammates thinking he got preferential treatment and the manager afraid to eviscerate him. Everyone would talk about them dipping their quills in the company ink. No, not that. No one in their right mind would ever say a thing about Draco; it would be James. James would be the ladder climber. He would get all the flack.

He knew he could deal with it, if it ever came to it. That would come later, much later, though. First James would have to get around to telling his family. Telling his parents about Draco would be a shock, but not as shocking as the precursor to that. He was sure that once he told his parents he was gay, telling them he was with Draco Malfoy would be a light blow by comparison.

He could come out, he supposed, but he had no idea where to start and wasn't ready for that at all. He Vanished his first cigarette and lit his second, thinking it was much easier to convince Draco to keep their relationship private.

He just needed to keep this going a while longer, give himself time to figure it all out. He could lie a little longer.

***

James was still feeling guilty when he saw Draco by chance the next day. He was sitting in press training for the upcoming season. James hated press training. It was something he felt like he'd been training for since he'd been in utero. By time he was six, he didn't talk about his family as a rule. With Mum, a famous Quidditch Player in her own right, and his dad who was the most famous person ever, you learned pretty quickly that people were morbidly curious about your life. It wasn't easy to go about with people staring at your dad then at you because you were with him. Everyone knowing his name and your name—it was creepy. Perfect strangers acting like they _knew_ you.

Once he started playing professionally it all got worse. Gone was the safety of home and Hogwarts. It was part of his job now; he was expected to give interviews. If a reporter wanted to talk about Quidditch, James was fine, but if it was anything else he never commented. He was in the league three solid years before someone got through an interview with him without bringing up his family. It wasn't until James played for the Cannons that questions about his parents stopped. Pansy… _Ms. Parkinson_ did not grant press passes to reporters who asked personal questions.

Being the seasoned professional he was, James did his best to pay attention to the required annual meeting, but he felt himself nodding off. The door to the room had opened, and Draco and Ms. Parkinson had slipped in and sat in the back to watch.

Draco was one row back and two people down from James. James tried not to turn around and look at Draco, but his eyes began to water with boredom and Draco was much more interesting.

Draco sat erect, arms tight across his chest, every now and again flicking his eyes to Ms. Parkinson. Ms. Parkinson sat straight as well, never taking her eyes from the PR witch going through the press packet, but with tiny movements of fingers and narrowing of eyes it was clear she and Draco were carrying on some sort of silent conversation. They had known each other so long they could do this seamlessly, like an old married couple.

Ms. Parkinson was Draco's best and most trusted employee. She was Director of the Chudley Cannons, the crown jewel of Draco's empire. She dabbled in other parts of his businesses here and there, but this was her main job. There was no one else on the planet Draco would trust with that job, save for himself.

About to lean forward, Draco _finally_ glanced at James. His face remained the icy cool reserve it always did in a professional environment, but the corners of his eyes softened for a second, a hundred things expressed in that tiny movement. James' stomach fluttered and he tried desperately not to grin like an idiot. Draco turned back away to look towards the front.

Before James could turn back, Ms. Parkinson looked at James. Her face said it all: _I'm not paying you to look at me._ She arched one elegantly shaped brow and James swiftly turned back to the meeting, but his mind never left the affectionate look Draco had given him.

***

Buoyed by the reassurance from Draco, the weather forecast being good for the upcoming match, and the fact that it was Wednesday and he would see Draco that night, James felt brilliant as he sat having breakfast with Teddy.

It was Teddy's favourite café—a Muggle place that seemed to cater to a student crowd. It was never in short supply of young women to ogle or chat up, thus Teddy's love for it. The food was decent enough so James didn't object. Just because he had no interest in sticking his knob in them didn't mean James didn’t enjoy looking, and he could also occasionally discreetly look at a bloke or two as well.

"How old was she?"

"Eighteen, an adult. Or at least I think she was eighteen," Teddy said taking a sip of his steaming tea. "Yeah, she was eighteen."

"You're going to get an angry father or brother after you one day and they will string you up by your bollocks." James smiled.

"Already have, but I have the fail safe disguise." Teddy's eyes flicked up towards his hair, which he wore black that day with a thick fringe sweeping across his forehead. Teddy's hair was naturally light brown and he kept it short. He only wore it like that when he couldn't be fussed to change. After his Grandmother died two years previous it was light brown for at least six months. James was sure she would be the only woman Teddy loved for longer than a week for the rest of his life.

"Hey, isn't that your boss?" Teddy looked at the counter where people got to-go orders. James turned, expecting Lynch or maybe even Ms. Parkinson, but it was Draco.

Before James could tell Teddy not to say anything, he was raising his hand and hailing Draco over. Draco looked at Teddy, baffled, but then his eyes settled on James and he smiled, a real, genuine, happy-to-see-you smile. The corners of his eyes wrinkling in that way that usually caused James' chest to clench with happiness.

Draco walked over, coffee clasped in hand, and before he could say anything James snapped, "What the hell are you doing here? It's a Muggle place."

Either he was ignoring James’ blatant rudeness or he didn't catch it because Draco smoothly said, "This is a pleasant surprise. I have a meeting across the street this morning."

"Muggle meeting, is it?" Teddy said, for Draco wore a suit and tie. "How many businesses do you run in the Muggle world?"

Draco sighed, looking put-upon that Teddy was talking to him. James jumped in before the conversation could go off the rails. "This is Teddy, my—"

"Your best friend, isn't he?" Draco said. "I've heard you speak of him many times."

"Right, er—" James could feel his face heating up. "Teddy, this is my boss, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco and Teddy both looked at James as if he'd suddenly lost his senses. "'Mr. Malfoy'?" Teddy snorted. "You idiot, we're cousins. We know each other, don't we, Draco?"

"Unfortunately, yes. One of the life's treasures, you can't help who you're related to."

"I think it's the only thing we agree on," Teddy said back. "Your mum isn't put off by that, she's having me over for tea this afternoon."

"Since when do you have tea with Narcissa Malfoy?" James said, shocked.

"Every time he's in town, my mother invites him over. We're the only family he has, or some terrible excuse similar to that," Draco said.

"Aren't we lucky, Draco?" Teddy said with a smirk.

"Beyond my wildest dreams, I assure you." Draco looked at his watch. "I'm late. Teddy, I'll see you too soon, I expect. Christmas suddenly feels too close."

"Boxing Day, same as usual. I'll see you then."

Draco looked at James and put his hand softly on his shoulder as if to apologize for the uncomfortable family bickering and said, "James."

James couldn't sit there and let Draco touch him like this. Touch him like there was something between them. Teddy would know. Teddy wasn't blind, and he was staring right at James' shoulder where Draco's hand was. James looked away and shrugged Draco away. Draco removed his hand and walked to the door.

"What the hell was that?" James hissed the instant Draco walked away.

"You're asking me what the hell was that? Draco touching you like that?" Teddy said, practically yelling.

"Shhhh!" James hissed, looking over his shoulder to see Draco open the door to the café and walk out. He then turned back to Teddy. "Since when have you been going to the Malfoys'?"

"Since when has Draco been touching you on the shoulder like that? Is he trying to turn you? You know he's gay."

"Yes, I know, and that's not what it was," James said, trying to mentally do the same thing he had physically done to the touch--brush it away. "You aren't answering about the Malfoys!"

"I see them once maybe twice a year. Auntie Narcissa more since Gran died, but not much. Where have you been?" Teddy said, shaking his head.

"I never knew. You and Auntie Narcissa get along?"

"She's all right for an older lady," Teddy shrugged.

"What does that mean? You aren't having it off with her, are you?" James said, confident that this line of questioning would make Teddy forget about the touch.

"No! But now that you mention it, perhaps I should. That would really get Draco's pants in a twist," Teddy grinned wolfishly.

"He would kill you," James said.

"I know, but remember, my fail-safe disguise."

James left the café twenty minutes later, leaving Teddy behind to chat up their waitress while he went to work. He turned down the closest alley from which he knew it was safe to Disapparate. He was about to take out his wand when he sensed movement behind him. Heart in his throat, he swiftly looked over his shoulder.

"Draco," he said, his voice sounding high in his ears. "I thought you had a meeting."

"What was that back there?" Draco said, walking slowly towards James.

"What was what?" James said, turning to fully face him.

"Teddy's your friend, isn't he? Your best friend? I got that correct, didn't I? Or did I stick my foot in my mouth?"

"No, no, he is," James said answering slowly, not sure where the trap was. "I forgot you were related, sorry about the bad introduction."

"Is that why you called me Mr. Malfoy?"

James shook his head, "We were in public. I figured it was only proper, given the circumstances."

"We were in a Muggle café, not the Leaky Cauldron, with someone who is as good as a brother to you. And you called me Mr. Malfoy. Why?"

"I just told you why," James said, sounding snotty.

"No. Why won't you call me 'Draco' in front of Teddy? How come you don't want him to know?" Draco punctuated each question, flicking the index finger of his right hand.

"We talked about this only two days ago," James said with huff.

"How come I can't touch you in front of him? How come family can't know? They aren't going to sell us to the Prophet. Are the Potters not trustworthy?"

"Of course they are!" James bristled. "There is nothing wrong with my family."

"How come they can't know then, James?" Draco cocked his head to one side, staring at James. James looked away, biting his lip and ruffling his hair. "Am I that horrible?"

"No!" James head snapped up and he looked at Draco intently. "It's not that at all. God, I would never ever think anything like that. If anything it's me! It's me—" James caught himself, his mouth running away with him.

"It's you who what? You're horrible? James, how could you be so horrible?" Unlike Draco's previous million questions this one was spoken with a great deal of tenderness and he reached out to James to touch, to comfort. "They don't accept that you're gay."

"They don't know," James said, the truth spilling from his mouth before he could keep it in. He flinched as the realization came of what he had admitted to. He stole a look at Draco before he shamefully looked away. As he expected, Draco looked like he'd been cursed.

"You've had boyfriends. You've told me. You said…were you lying?" Draco said, voice rising in anger.

"No, I've had two. One at school—he'll never tell anyone—and a Muggle. That wasn't a lie," James replied fiercely.

"How comforting," Draco said with a dark laugh. "Everything else in your life is a lie, but you've gotten off with two, no, three blokes, me being the lucky third."

"Everything in my life is not a lie!" James said.

"You're lying right now!" Draco leaned in close, yelling, all worry that they could be overheard gone. "You go around with me for four fucking months, sucking my prick, then you go home every night pretending to be mummy's boy, perfect and straight. Never letting on you like a big cock in your arse and down your throat!"

"Shut your fucking mouth! You have no idea what it's like between me and my family. You don't know them at all, don't even pretend you do!"

"I know things about your mum and dad that would shatter your world, _Potter_."

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck yourself, because I'm not doing it anymore. Go live your lie and hide who you are. We're done." Draco turned, his heels clicking as he swiftly left the alley.

James did nothing but stare after him. As badly as the words stung, it was worse watching Draco go. The only person who knew the whole truth about James, and now he was the only one who knew James was a coward too.  


***

James lay flat on his back, elbow over his eyes as if he was trying to block out the lights, which weren't on in the first place. He lay, slowly breathing in and out, trying to wish the past few days away, especially the present day.

"Uncle Ron is about to leave."

James peeked out from under his arm to see his mum standing in the doorway. James grunted in reply and re-covered his eyes. He heard his mum walk from the door and felt the bed sag as she sat down next to him.

"It's safe to come downstairs now."

"I'm not hiding from Uncle Ron," James said.

"I thought that—"

"I've lost matches before, Mum," James said, jumping in before his mum could finish. He knew what she thought.

No one liked losing, but in a twenty-six game season losses were bound to happen. Uncle Ron never understood this. He was the biggest Cannons supporter and the quickest to complain about any setback. Uncle Ron loved to complain about the Cannons, but mostly focused on the ownership and that the whole team was going down the drain. He never complained about the team itself. He took a lot of pride in the fact that his favourite nephew and godson was one of their premier players. Draco had owned the team for almost eighteen years, but from how James' uncle talked you would think it was a personal attack that "Malfoy" was the owner. Ron was still complaining that _he_ , Draco, had to go and buy his favourite team. But James wasn't hiding upstairs because the Cannons' biggest supporter was downstairs railing on their loss and the bad officiating; he could handle Ron. James felt like crap for several other reasons besides a bad Quidditch performance and didn't feel like being around anyone at all.

"Jamie, it's only the first match. There will be more," his mum said soothingly and reached for his hand to hold it.

He didn't need to be told this. In his mind he knew it, but his heart was a whole 'nother matter. The last four days had been hell. Draco was gone but not really. James saw him three times during the week, mostly glimpses, but those were hard enough to handle. Seeing a flash of white blond hair or hearing his drawling voice made James his stomach clench in hurt and anger. It was affecting everything he did, especially his practicing. That was the last thing James wanted the situation to affect; he wanted to show Draco he was okay.

By Friday night he was ready to burst with the anticipation of the first match, adding to his already tense state. He ached for a release and thought about going over to Draco's and having a wild angry fuck, but no. James remembered Scorpius was in town. Instead James went out to a club, aching to grind against someone for a quick anonymous fuck. The few minutes it had lasted with that bloke's hand in his pants had been bloody fantastic. As soon as the high of orgasm was gone, however, he felt darker and worse than he had before.

This did not lead to a good performance the next day. Losing was bad enough, but having to watch from the sidelines was doubly bad. James had been pulled and replaced after only fifteen minutes of play because he was a complete embarrassment to his team. Forgetting formations, dropping the Quaffle, missing passes thrown to him—there wasn't a single redeeming thing about his performance.

The salt poured in his already aching wounds came when he met his family afterward. They had all come to the match. They sat in the box reserved for players' families, right next to the owner's box. James hadn't heard a word anyone had said to him; he only had eyes for Draco as he stood there feeling utterly defeated. Draco hadn't spared him a glance.

James peeked out from under his arm again and looked at Mum. "Did the Great Ginny Weasley ever have a complete shit game? Surely not."

Ginny laughed in reply and patted James' arm. "Course I did. Not every moment I had on a broom was my greatest."

"Mum?"

"Yes, Jamie?"

"How come you're the Great Ginny _Weasley_ , not Potter?" James said, wondering this for the very first time.

"I wasn't Potter when I started my career."

"But you and dad got married only a few years into it."

"Right, well," Ginny paused, appearing to choose her words with great care. "I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I was afraid of what people would think. That if I took the last name Potter, all they would think about was my marrying your father."

"You weren't fooling anyone, the whole world knew you and dad got married," James said.

"I know, but I was young and I married your dad because I loved him and it was hard enough with people thinking it was because of money or who he was. I didn't want to advertise it more by using his name," Ginny said.

"Did Dad mind?"

"I think he understood."

"But you're Ginny _Potter_ now. It's your byline."

"I grew up. As grown up as I thought I was at twenty-one, in a lot of ways I wasn't. Potter or Weasley, people are going to think what they think about me. My last name is Potter, that's been my name longer than Weasley was. It's who I am, no use hiding it," Ginny said easily enough.

"You like being a Potter?"

"I haven't found a drawback yet." She smiled. "Besides, someone need only look at my hair and they know I'm a Weasley too."

"My hair makes me a Potter." James grinned. "Mess that it is."

Ginny's eyes flicked to the door, then she looked back at James and said, "And your Quidditch skills are all Weasley."

"Ha! Don't listen to her, James," his dad said from the door. Ginny flashed a grin over her shoulder at Harry. "Came to tell you Ron's gone and dinner's here."

"Good, I'm famished," Ginny said, standing from the bed and offering a hand to pull James up.

"You all right, Jamie?" Harry asked. James nodded, giving his dad what he hoped was a reassuring look. Harry smiled then turned to go, and Ginny made to follow.

"Mum," James said faintly, but she heard and turned. James rushed into her arms. She was much smaller than him now, but the hug felt the same as it did when he was a small boy. Her arms were the largest most safe place in the world. "Thanks," he said, kissing the top of her head. He couldn't tell his mum this, but for the first time James felt lighter than he had all week.

***

This was one of those times when James wished he could talk to Draco. Actually talk to him--not argue, not shag, but talk. Have one of those conversations they always had that at the time James took for granted but right now he desperately craved. James thought it was time to come out to his family, but hadn't a single bloody clue where to start.

How did people do this? Did they drop hints? Did they tell people via owl post? Sure, there had been times before when James had thought it was a good time to say something, when people brought up girls or dating, but no one was bringing that up now. The one time James wanted to talk about it and no one said a word! Maybe they already knew?

This is what James needed Draco for. Draco's cool, collected mind would help James sort through the bundle of nerves and emotions. James could spew every thought he had and Draco would somehow make sense of them and put them all back together. There was no Draco though. James was on his own. Had he been honest with Draco from the start…honest with himself from the start, it would be very different now.

James thought about all this as he sat with his family having dinner. Ginny was pestering Lily about her clothes while Albus told Harry about the Healer he was to be trained under. Right now would be perfect; it was just the five of them. He could say it now, "I'm gay," but how the _hell_ could he follow that up? "That was great, Mum, what's for pudding?"

What was the point of telling them now anyway? There was no one to go to if it went badly. These things did end up going badly, didn't they?

Maybe if he was seventeen he would come out and tell them, but he was twenty-three now; he couldn't go about blurting out everything. This needed finesse and now was not the time.

"A package came for you today."

"Hm?" James said, looking at his sister.

"A pack-age, came, for _youuuu_ , to-day," Lily said, rolling her eyes at James. "What, are you hard of hearing? It's from _Nimbus_. It looks like a broom."

"New team equipment?" Ginny asked.

"They're contracted with Firebolt," Harry said before James could answer.

"Free _sample_ , I bet," James said. "They want me to carry it around, mention it to a couple reporters, and for that I can keep it."

"You will let me ride it before you send it back," Albus said.

"Of course," James nodded. "Can't keep it, but they never said we couldn't try it out before I send it back."

After dinner James went upstairs to see the long box lying on his bed. He took out his wand, delicately unwrapping it. He wanted to make it look like he hadn't even touched it.

The broom really was beautiful. Redwood handle, golden wheat straw for the tail, all trimmed to a perfect length and density to reduce drag. _Nimbus 3030_ was embossed on the tip of the handle. James loved his new Firebolt, but this broom had a flash about it that made his toes tingle.

His blood thrummed with excitement for testing out this broom. He pulled on his cloak and threw open his window. He would take it for a quick spin then go to Albus' room and enumerate its many virtues.

*

"And look right here," James said, showing the end of the handle to Albus. Albus looked up from his book, resetting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"It's a hole. In a broom. What the fuck is that for?" Albus said then turned back to his book.

"Supposedly makes it lighter. Cuts weight, so you can go faster."

Albus snorted. "A gram is really going to make that much of a difference."

"This isn't school team shit, Al," James said, rolling his eyes. "It's _professional_ teams. Every tiny thing counts when everyone is as talented as the next."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"Besides. You could also fuck it."

"James," Albus said, eyes still on his book. "Only _you_ would think of fucking a broom. There isn't much you haven't stuck your cock in."

"Flange. Haven't put my cock anywhere 'fanny' since I was almost eighteen." The words felt almost distant coming from James' mouth. He hadn't expected to say that or anything like it. Maybe he was still keyed up from the amazing ride of the broom or maybe his mouth got away from him. Or maybe this was how it was supposed to be, you say it when it feels right. Right now, it felt right, to tell Al, to let him know.

"Don't be a twat. You haven't gone five years without getting laid."

"That's not what I said," James said very slowly. He could have made a joke, turned this around and not gone down this road but he didn't want to. It was full steam ahead.

Albus stopped reading. James could tell because he went very still, including his eyes. Al slowly turned and looked at James.

"I'm gay."

Al blinked at James, his face not showing a single emotion, but then wonderful spectacular amazing Albus Severus Potter's face broke into a wide grin. "Knew you were a poncy git when you wore a cravat every day of your seventh year."

"Did not. It was a scarf and I only wore it a few times," James pouted.

"Still knew. Gay as a copper sickle."

"The hell you did," James said, trying not to smile.

"Bite marks and red rash on your neck from scruff. I knew you were either snogging a bloke or going down on some bird with prickly legs," Albus said with a shudder.

"You're not right, you know? Looking at my skin to figure who I'm having it off with."

"I am training to be a Healer in the magical arts," Albus said solemnly. "It is my duty to make sure those around me are in good health."

"Twat," James grabbed a pillow and threw it at Albus, who slapped it away, laughing.

"You should have seen the love-bite Lily made me heal before she went shopping with Mum."

"You’re going to blackmail her later, aren't you?" James said, knowing Albus never worked out of the kindness of his heart.

"Nah, I owed her. This time around."

"Al, you aren't going to use this against me, are you?" James asked. He knew Al and knew that Al had a sense of when to be funny and when it was serious, but James had to make sure. This was serious beyond measure.

"Who else knows?" Al said, raising his brows.

"No one."

Al tilted his head back and whistled. "That's some serious shit, Jamie, and no one knows? Wow. Did you tell me first because you love me best? I'm your favourite, I know I am."

"Yes, Al, you are my favourite," James said dryly. "I actually don't know why I told you…it felt right."

"You'll make sure I'm home when you tell Mum. I can't wait to see that."

"You think…you think she'll be upset?" James said, worrying his lower lip.

Albus snorted. "No. I want to be around when she realizes I'm the only male hope for grandchildren."

"Your spawn? I cringe at the thought." James stood from the bed, picking up the broom. "Come get me when you're done revising. You can have a go on my broom."

"How many blokes have you said _that_ to?"

"Eat shit, you pervert," James said without malice.

Albus chortled and said, "I slept with Aunt Fleur's sister."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Gabrielle, I had a—" Albus waved his hand vaguely in the air. "You know, when she was staying with them two summers ago, then again at Christmas."

"Albus Potter," James said with not a small amount of astonishment.

Albus shrugged. "Figured you should know. You're not the only one who has secrets."

"Thanks, Al," James said, clearing his throat over the bubble of emotions rising in his throat.

"Right…well…don't fuck that broom till after I've tried it. Your dried jizz isn't something I want to get near."

"That's fine. I'll only leave a short and curly or two." Albus' laugh still rang in the hall as James left his room.

That wasn't so bad; he could tell people. Why had he been hiding so long?

***

The plan was easy. James and Albus were going to meet their dad for a pint and James would tell him then. Then when they went home he would tell Mum. James had a little hesitation about telling his dad in a public place, but Albus had convinced him it would work best to keep Dad from overreacting, and when James told Mum it would help limit her yelling if Dad already knew.

James had told Lily two nights earlier. She had taken it as well as Albus had, but she claimed she already knew. That she'd known for two years. "When your brother looks at blokes with you, you know," she had said. James didn't know if he really had done that or she was only saying it to be nice, but all the same he appreciated her being so casual about it.

"Do they say anything about me?" James said, sitting down at the bar by Albus, who was flipping through the evening edition of the _Prophet_.

"Hadn't checked the sports yet," Albus said, removing the section and tossing it at James.

Before James could even signal for it, a pint appeared in front of him. He took a sip as he scanned the front page. Two stories on other teams, one about a low-scoring match last night, but nothing about the Cannons. James flipped the page, scanning the scores from all of last night's matches. He looked to the next page and the photo immediately caught his eye. The photo was a still taken from a Muggle paper--the lack of movement was what initially attracted James' eye--but now it was something else all together.

**Muggles never looked so good.**

It read above the photo. Beneath it read: _Famed Cannons owner and former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, steps out with Jonathan Barney. Barney, a well known member of the wealthy elite, and Malfoy, both openly gay in their respective communities, take in a cosy dinner, alone, two nights ago in Highbury._

The picture was mostly framed on Draco reaching for the hand of the man in front of him as he climbed out of a car. Barney was looking over his shoulder at the camera, stunned. Despite the wide, possibly mad-looking eyes and partially open mouth, Barney was handsome. Curly hair, strong masculine features and tall, about Draco's height. Draco looked at the camera out of the corners of his eyes. His face looked sharp, but his expression was blank. He wasn't going to give away any emotion, even when caught by surprise. The worst part about the photo was that Draco looked devastating. Even in a black and white, the angle of his cheek bones, the glint of his eyes, and the way one strand of fringe fell across his forehead undid James.

James knew all too well not to take the press, even photos, at face value. He remembered all the things that had been printed and said about his family—mostly his parents—that were dead wrong. He remembered when he was ten and Dad was working on an intense case that kept him away all hours of the day. When he was home he was either sleeping or yelling for everyone to be quiet so he could sleep.

Nerves frazzled and tired of everyone going spare, Ginny packed up James and his siblings and took them to Rome for an "educational" trip. The trip had been brilliant—Romans, swords, helmets, ancient magic, and best of all him and Al pretending to be gladiators and accidentally throwing a chair out the hotel room window in the heat of battle. The gossip rags had been merciless though. James remembered even newsstands in Italy had pictures of Ginny standing in the queue at the Floo station, yelling. Headlines would say things like 'Ginny Leaves Harry in an Angry Huff' or 'Ginny Flees Country with Children. Has Harry been Unfaithful?' The picture was correct in so much that Ginny had yelled at the Floo station, but it was James, Albus, and Lily she had yelled at for swinging on the bars of a barrier. Everything else was a lie.

"What's the matter?" Albus said, looking over his arm at the paper. It wasn't till Albus interrupted his thoughts that James realized the death grip he had on the paper.

"Nothing, why?" James said, trying to slowly loosen his hands.

"You look like you're about to hit someone." Albus scanned the pages looking for what had gotten James in a twist. "You have it for Draco Malfoy?" Albus said too loudly.

"Shhh!" James said, looking around to see if anyone was looking at them, but no one was. "No, of course not."

"Right," Albus chuckled. "It's the Muggle bloke then. Blow him enough that he'll give me a ride on his private aeroplane."

"Shut up, Al, it's not either of them."

"Your face shows it all, James. You're half-way between setting that photo on fire or taking it to the back and wanking over it. What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," James said in a rush. "There is absolutely not a single thing between Draco and me."

"Yeah, I believe that," Albus chortled back and James glared at him. "Here comes Dad. Go to the loo and get yourself together. You're pants at hiding the fact that you're upset."

James looked to the door and saw his dad walking in. Albus' idea was probably good. James could feel the heat of his face and hear the blood thrumming in his ears. He turned on the stool, slid off, and quickly walked to the back.

He splashed cold water on his face from the basin, trying to wash away the thought that seemed to be burned on the back of his eyes. _Draco blowing another man._ As soon as that one faded, another would replace it. Another man, rubbing Draco, blowing Draco, them shagging, and the worst one, Draco kissing him.

James knew it was weird that it was the thought of them kissing that upset him the most, but getting off was one thing. Hands on each other, tender lips pressed together, shared taste and breath...it was intimate and that was why James felt like he was going to vomit.

Draco telling someone else his thoughts, holding his hand, knowing how to make him laugh, telling the other person about the stupid boy he used to fuck…GOD! James sat on the floor, putting his head between his knees trying to catch his breath. He was stupid and ashamed and now…

As hard as he tried to fight them, thoughts about Draco and someone else filled his head. It wasn't even this Muggle chap anymore; it was one faceless man after another. Knowing Draco the way James had. The secret language they shared. How to touch, when to be gentle, when to be anything but, how to make him come quickly and how to make him wait teetering on the edge and then making him wait even longer. All these things and so many more, James thought about. His head spun.

"Ow!" the door to the toilets suddenly opened, slamming James in the back of the head and bringing him back to himself. He was sitting on the filthy floor of a loo in a pub; God knew what had already crawled under his skin.

"Sorry," the person said. "I didn’t know—"

"It's fine," James called back. As he stood from the floor, the back of his robes stuck to it for the briefest moment. He didn't check to see what it was. Whatever it was, he didn't want to touch it. He waved his wand and quickly cleaned the back of his robes. "Hadn't realized I was blocking the door," James said, opening the door with a confident smile that didn't match how he was still feeling inside.

"Right." The man rushed past him in a hurry to use the toilet. James steadied his breath and went out to sit with Dad and Albus.

"You all right?" Harry said as James sat down next to him.

"Something I ate at lunch," James said touching his stomach. "Better now though."

"If not, this will do the trick," Albus said, sliding a shot of Firewhisky in front of him. James nodded gratefully and threw back the drink in one motion.

He turned to his dad and grinned. "Your turn now, Dad."

"No," Harry chuckled. "I'm supposed to be responsible and not let my sons convince me that having more than a pint at five on a Wednesday is a good idea."

"Mum still angry about last time?" James said, and Albus chortled.

"Not if you don't remind her," Harry replied.

"Want another?" Albus said, about to signal the bartender.

"No, I'm good," James said, looking straight at Al and with a flick of his eyes trying to show that the plan for the evening was called off. He couldn’t do it now. He could smile and have a pint with his dad, but he couldn’t go down that road tonight. He still felt raw on the inside.

Al nodded and started in on some disgusting story about work.

***

"Why is it I promised to go with you to this?" Lily asked, slipping her arm through James' and pulling tightly against him to better shield herself from the cold.

"Because one day your big brother will be a lonely old queen and you'll be the one to keep him company in his old age."

"I thought it was because you couldn't get a date. Ow!" Lily tried to pull her arm away to keep James from pinching her again.

"I didn't _want_ a date," James said, squeezing her arm so she couldn't pull away.

"Right, I forgot, everyone wants you for your money and last name." She pulled her arm free, moving swiftly away to dodge the poke James aimed at her ribs.

"That's why I can't tell Mum and Dad. With Al being a complete twat and you having nothing to offer, the hopes and dreams of the family ride on my shoulders."

James meant it as a joke, but from the look Lily gave him it was clear a bit too much of his insecurities showed in his tone.

"Oh, Jamie," said Lily, tucking her arm back into his and leaning close affectionately. "Don't worry about Mum and Dad. They gave up expecting anything from you when you threw gnome shit at the side of Gran's house."

"Thanks, Lils." James patted his sister's hand. Nothing like family to drag up things you did when you were nine.

James stopped at an old rusted gate set into a cracked concrete wall covered with dead vines. The gate hung precariously on two hinges. James took out his wand, tapped the gate, and it swung open. They stepped into a large pentagon-shaped common garden surrounded by large townhouses on all sides. It was dark, but the gas lamps from the porches of the houses left the garden in a yellow glow.

"This is Parallel Place?" Lily asked, already sounding impressed. "It's what I expected, derelict on the outside, stunning on the inside. Which one is Draco's?"

" _Mr. Malfoy's_ , and that one there." James pointed to the large townhouse with a red brick exterior. It was flanked by two that were similar, but Draco's was noticeably larger. Something about seeing the house made James sad. It was another jab to his already suffering ego. He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the surge of emotions he felt, and said, "Number thirty-seven."

Draco lived in an exclusive wizarding neighbourhood hidden amongst the many serpentine streets of London. It was the place he called _home_ despite the flat he kept in Muggle London and owning Malfoy Manor. The flat was for Muggle business purposes and Malfoy Manor was actually Narcissa's as far as Draco was concerned. He may have owned it by inherited right, but he would never say so.

James had officially been to Draco's house on several occasions. It was common for Draco to have a team social dinner a few times a season, like tonight. James had also been over, with his Mum and Dad sometimes in tow, when the Cannons were courting him away from the reserve team for the Tornados. Draco and Pansy had both told James he was underappreciated and underused. Reserve teams would be a thing of the past and he would become a star with them.

They were correct: James had become one by his second season with the Cannons. But that season was looking like a fluke at this point. James hadn't been benched since the first embarrassing match but he certainly wasn't playing his best.

Pansy opened the door as they got to the front step. She always played pseudo-wife on occasions like these. Draco loathed opening the door to his own home. He said it made him feel like a butler. Snob.

"James, welcome, and this certainly cannot be your girlfriend," Pansy said as they walked in.

"No," James said, trying his best to speak in a respectful tone. "Ms. Parkinson, this is my younger sister, Lily. Lily, this is one of my many bosses, Ms. Pansy Parkinson."

Pansy took Lily's hand, shaking it. "I see it now. The shape of your face is all _Potter_."

Lily grinned. "Thank God I have red hair then, otherwise I'd look like my dad in a dress." Pansy laughed and James did as well. He was glad he brought Lily; she was able to iron her way through any potentially uncomfortable situation.

They removed their heavy cloaks and gloves and walked to the reception area, where everyone was having cocktails. Draco stood at the entrance to the room welcoming everyone as they came in. He looked better than James had remembered. He even smelled better. James was sure he could catch his scent even from a few feet away. It made his chest tight. James wanted to grab him by the arm, drag him upstairs, and fuck him into the mattress, all while he demanded to know why Draco was with someone else. They may not have been together but he still felt that every bit of him was Draco's and it was bloody awful that Draco didn't feel the same way.

Resisting every natural urge James had at that moment, he steeled himself and stepped towards Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy," James said curtly, sticking out his hand and firmly shaking Draco's.

"James."

"This is my sister, Lily," James said, pulling Lily forward to introduce her.

"Lovely to meet you," Lily said, tossing back her long red hair and sticking out her hand.

"Charmed," Draco said, and as he bent to kiss Lily's hand James could have sworn he saw a smirk on Draco's lips.

"Tell me, Ms. Potter—"

"Lily."

"Of course, Lily," Draco said still not relinquishing her hand. "Tell me why such a lovely young lady is stuck going out with her brother on a Friday night."

James' stomach twitched as he saw that evil flash in Lily's eyes. "So many reasons. Where do I start? You see, Mr. Malfoy—"

"Draco."

" _Draco._ Jamie here is extraordinarily lazy and expects potential mates to come knocking on his door, poor bloke, and it's not happening. Because he's the world's best big brother I agreed to let him drag me along. But he did say I could leave early as I have another, more promising engagement."

"Is that so, _Jamie_?" Draco said looking over at James, who was regretting not coming alone.

"He also told me you have an excellent bar," Lily added.

"I do indeed. Over there," Draco gestured to the corner, where a bartender stood making drinks. "Tell him I said to give you a glass of champagne, one of the bottles I keep hidden on nights like these." Lily smiled and waggled her eyebrows at James then trotted off towards the bar.

As if by magic, Draco pulled a drink from his side and handed it to James. "I took the liberty," Draco said. It was a gin and tonic, two limes, three olives; James' favourite.

"You really shouldn't have," James said through clenched teeth. "I'm likely to throw it in your face."

"I would have you stunned and fired before you got the last drop out."

"Fucking someone else already, Draco. How could you?" James said, not able to keep himself from discussing it at a more appropriate and far more private time. He had planned on talking to Draco about this eventually, but patience was never James' best trait.

"You want answers from me? That's rich. Go pretend to be something you're not and drink your drink," Draco said, and in the next moment he had turned away, welcoming the next arrival. He was once again the picture of composure.

Anger thrumming through his body, James stomped across the room to the bar where Lily was awaiting her champagne. He opened the large lacquered wooden box that sat on the bar and held cigarettes. Draco did not permit smoking in the house, but that did not mean he didn't allow it all together. James gestured to Lily to ask if she wanted one; she shook her head no. He took one out and saw they were Warlocks, another favourite of James'.

Fifteen minutes later, cigarette and first drink gone, James stepped inside from the patio ready to exist in the same room as Draco for the next few hours.

"Where have you been?" Lily hissed, digging her fingers into his arm.

"Smoking," James said, pulling away. "Why? What's wrong?"

"That Beater, he was trying to chat me up."

"Roger? He's not a bad bloke." James grinned.

"His neck is as thick as a house and he smells." Lily's nose pinched as if she were going to be sick.

"Maybe you should go back," James said in whisper. "His cock's as thick as his neck."

"I hate you."

"Sorry, I won't leave again."

James, with Lily firmly tucked at his side, circulated the room. James received a razzing from a couple teammates about not actually bringing a date with him. He always brushed it off, saying he knew better than to bring someone unsuspecting into the lion's den, but in his chest it ached a little bit. Would they accept him if he'd brought an actual date? Someone he _wanted_ to go home with at the end of the night? If he hadn't completely fucked himself over, he could have been Draco's date, and he knew what they would think of him then.

As dinner was announced, James had finished his second very strong drink. He felt warm and light as they walked to the dining room. They found their seats and he wasn't bothered to find that Lily was placed right next to Draco and James to her left.

James didn't hesitate to sip from his already full glass of red wine. He thought maybe it was more appropriate to wait for the food, but he'd stopped caring about that sort of thing a drink ago.

"Lily, you are in your gap year?" Draco said, turning to talk to Lily as two waiters moved about serving the salad.

"Yes," Lily said, sitting back so that the waiter could set the salad in front of her. Pear and rocket with shaved Parmesan. James' favourite.

"Any plans?"

"I travelled in the summer for a bit. Went with my godmother to Peru and then to Argentina with a friend. I leave in a couple weeks for Italy, then to Bombay and New Zealand before I come home for Christmas. Before you ask about my career ambitions, no, I don't have any."

Draco smiled, obviously amused by her. "You played Quidditch at Hogwarts. You were decent, if I recall."

"How did you know?"

"It's my job to know those sorts of things. The Harpies are always looking for young talent."

"No, I'll leave being a Quidditch star to James," Lily said, looking at him. "He's a rare talent."

"I could not agree more." Draco lifted his glass and took a sip, his eyes not leaving James’.

Gratefully, for almost the rest of dinner, James was ignored. Draco and Lily talked to each other almost exclusively. After the dessert course, everyone stood from the table to continue their conversations in the other room. Lily moved to make her exit.

James stood in the hall with her, helping her into her cloak. "What the hell was with Draco? He nearly talked my ear off."

"Maybe he's looking for a good wife for his son." James shrugged.

Lily snorted. "Been down that road and I'm not going there again."

"You dated Malfoy?" James couldn't help but wince at the thought.

"You're one to judge," Lily said dryly. "Besides, _dated_ would have been a polite word for what we normally did."

"Please, you are my baby sister. Pretend you are sweet and virginal for me."

"All right, I'm on my way to the church right now to pray for your soul." Lily grinned.

"Why my soul?"

"The way Draco looks at you, there isn't anything virginal about it."

"Lily—" James tried to talk but he couldn't imagine how she had worked that out. She was only eighteen and she _saw_ something he did not.

"Don't be so thick; Al told me. Have a good night." She kissed James on the cheek and quietly went out the front door.

Thinking it was a bad idea to have another drink, considering at that point he didn't know if he'd had three or four, James walked in to join the party, looking for a glass of water. He was less than two steps into the room when his arm was caught in a vise-like grip.

"James, you hardly seem yourself tonight. You are usually the life of the party," Pansy said sweetly, almost purring.

"Last time I was the life of the party I had a headache for three days and couldn't figure out where my pants had gone."

James looked down at Pansy with his best innocent boy smile and she laughed. Pansy was dressed in her standard outfit: expensive, tight, her cleavage on display. Her breasts weren't large but they encapsulated everything that was beautiful about the breast and she showed them off to make sure everyone knew. James appreciated that about her. She was proof you could dare to look sexy and still be taken seriously. No one in their right mind wouldn't take her seriously just because her necklines tended to be a little low. Whether she was showing it or not, Pansy was all business, the wheels in her mind constantly working. She was so respected by the players that no one thought twice about her entering the changing rooms, males' or females'. If she walked in, you knew it was because she was there for a good reason, not to ogle players with their kits off. Draco was the same. No one said a word about him entering the men's changing room. Draco did not enter the womens'. He was, after all, a gentleman.

"Perhaps if you lost your pants again your playing might improve," Pansy said evenly.

"Is this about my contract?" James said, wanting to steer the conversation away from what he was lacking. "I sure hope it isn't. I would hate my agent or the league to hear you were discussing my contract at an unsanctioned place without my representative present."

"How is your aunt doing anyway? It's been two years since I last saw her. You hopefully remain her only client," Pansy said coolly.

"The one and only. After what I am sure was a _friendly_ duel during my last negotiations, she almost dropped me, but she's my godmother so she really can't say no when I ask real nice."

Instead of a snappy retort Pansy's eyes flicked past James for a moment then back up at him. "Come outside with me and have a cigarette." It was a demand not a request.

James politely lit Pansy's cigarette for her then his own. "I thought you quit," James said as he blew out a puff of smoke.

"How'd you know that?" Pansy said, sitting on a bench and crossing her legs.

James shrugged. He had heard it from Draco but couldn't let on. "You were bitchy as hell last spring. Well…I mean bitchier than your standard. I heard that's what it was."

"One isn't going to hurt," Pansy said and then inhaled slowly, eyes closing as she savoured the experience.

"You got me out here alone. What is it you want?" James said, flicking away some ash.

"You are so blunt, James. Never managing to have socially acceptable, circular conversations. It's so very…Gryffindor." Pansy’s tone soured around the last word.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Fine, you win; let's be garish." Pansy tipped her head back, inhaled again, and waited till she exhaled to continue. "I like you, James. You're a damn fine player and all that, but I do like you. It's no secret lately you have been off. I am not blaming you for this, but you aren't the only person who's been a great mess of their former self. As much as I don’t like leaving an important job to morons and would prefer to do it myself, I can't fix this one. Take your head out of your arse and fix what's broken or a friendly duel will be the least of your aunt's worries." Pansy took another drag and she let her eyes move to the door, only for a second.

James scratched the back of his head and looked at Pansy. "So much for being blunt. I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Don't you?"

"No."

"Your lies may pass with everybody else," Pansy said, standing and walking towards James. "They don't work with me." Pansy dropped her fag to the ground, stomped it out with one very tall high heel, and walked back inside.

James was going to kill Draco for telling her. Right after he killed him for dating that Muggle.

*

James took for granted how long these evenings could run. Normally he was too busy having a grand time to realize people never went home. Finally at half till midnight only two people remained besides James. He could sense their impending departure and went off to the loo to wait for them to go.

He heard them in the hall, getting their cloaks, and the front door opened. James walked out, waving to them, acting like he was getting his own cloak as well, ready to depart just behind them. Draco closed the door and James put his cloak down.

Draco turned and looked at James, a bit of fringe crossing his forehead, almost falling in his eye. He pushed it back and looked back at James.

"Are you going to tell me about this Muggle you're shagging?" James said casually.

"Are you after pointers or kinky details?" Draco said, walking towards James but then past him to go up the stairs. James turned to follow him.

"Details are always nice but I doubt I will find them that enticing. As for pointers we both know I don't need any."

Draco kept climbing the stairs but shot a look over his shoulder and snorted.

"How is he at sucking your cock?" James continued. Draco paused at the top of the stairs, but only for a moment then continued on. "You have nothing to say to me?" James said as he reached the top of the stairs, which got Draco to turn around.

"I have a lot to say to you. However, currently you are drunk and I want you to remember everything I have to say the next morning," Draco replied.

"M'not that drunk," James said and for a minute had to truly convince himself of his own words because he was sure he was slurring a bit. "Fine, OK, I've a bit more than usual."

"Some Gryffindor you are, so little courage you have to take some from a bottle," Draco sneered.

"I am not a coward," James said hotly.

"I didn't say that."

"Right, you're so clever, you only _implied_ it."

Draco snorted. "You're going to stand there and give me a lecture on morals?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" James demanded.

"You lied to me, plain and simple," Draco answered flatly.

"I didn't lie! I didn't know how—then you found out and that was it. Snap. No more feelings for me. You go find yourself a boyfriend somewhere else."

"I cannot believe what I am hearing. You didn't lie? Who the hell do you think you're talking to? True, you never told me I was the only person in the world who knew you preferred men. You never spoke a mistruth, but omission is still a lie, James. Trust me, I know."

"That isn't what it was! It all happened so fast. One day I can't keep my eyes away from you, the next I'm in your bed, and suddenly the summer is over and the season’s starting. I didn't know how to tell you." James' chest ached as he pled with Draco for understanding. It was a punch in the stomach when Draco laughed.

"You can't tell me your sexuality is a secret from everyone but me, but you can come over here demanding to know about _my_ sex life? You are far more brash than I ever thought you could be."

James didn't want to talk about what he'd done wrong; this wasn't why he’d stayed. He grabbed onto what Draco said and ran with it. "Have you slept with the complete wizarding supply of men so now you have to do the Malfoy version of slumming and suck a Muggle cock?"

"Such a _boy_." Draco clicked his tongue. "All our time together and you think it's his cock that's getting sucked. You should know it's the other way around. I don't go about sucking any old prick that presents itself."

"Draco," James said in a whisper, not wanting to hear this. Yes, he'd started it but he never thought Draco would…

"He's the sort that's borderline manic about it. Can see it in his eyes. Why do you think I went to dinner with him? I knew the moment I looked at him he would be begging to suck me by the end of the night." Draco's delivery of the details was emotionless, almost like a news reader, but the words still cut James.

"Stop," James said, taking a deep slow breath.

"Stop?" Draco scoffed. "You stayed for this, acted like a rude little shit you wanted to hear it so bad. Here it is, so shut up and listen. I'll tell what it feels like to fuck him."

"Shut up!" James launched himself at Draco, grabbing and pulling him into a kiss. He wasn't going to listen to this anymore. He was going to erase any thought of another man from Draco's mind. If he finally got it right, finally told his parents and he didn't have Draco to come back to, then what was the point? No Draco, why bother? He would make Draco stay put so that when James was done Draco was there.

"Get off me," Draco said, pulling his mouth away, but his hands stayed twisted in the front of James' robes. "You're fucking disgusting, throwing yourself at me like that." Draco slammed his mouth back against James'. He sucked hard and bit at James' bottom lip so that James yelped, trying to pull away. He was sure he was bleeding. Draco kissed him forcefully, and James pushed back in reply, gripping tightly to the back of Draco's robes, pulling him in close.

They pulled apart, chests heaving, Draco's face flush and his lips wet from the kiss. He was panting as he spoke again. "You know what the worst part about you is? Course you don't because you're too self-centred to see. You made me think the reason it was all very hush-hush was because you cared about me. Because I was special to you. That was a fucking lie if I ever heard one. Only ever thinking about your own cock."

"I did care about you!"

"Like hell you did!"

James kissed Draco again but this time didn't stop there. He reached under Draco's robes, pulling at his shirt, untucking it and pulling at the buttons. Draco did likewise to James, ripping and tearing at his clothes.

"You're going to fuck me to prove how much you _love_ me? How much I _mean_ to you?"

"Yes," James said, pulling Draco into another deep kiss.

"Good," Draco panted back into his mouth.

Draco pulled him to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

Draco pulled James down onto the bed with him. Draco's naked body, warm underneath him, felt so good that James could have wept. He'd forgotten how much he needed to be touched like this. Lips to lips, bare chest to bare chest, cocks hard rubbing past each other. Draco gripped tightly to James' hair, keeping him pressed in a kiss.

"Get the lube, I want you to open me," Draco said. "See the way your eyes light up when you put your fingers in me. Those fucking blue eyes, I hate you for having them."

James felt a surge of laughter in his chest. Draco was talking and telling him something he hated; this was going to be brilliant.

Reluctantly, James slid off Draco to get the jar out of the top drawer where Draco kept it…where _they_ had kept it.

Draco moved back against the pillows while James slicked his fingers and crawled towards him. Draco put his feet flat on the bed and spread his legs wide, tilting his hips up. James trailed one hand up Draco's right leg, circled his long, hard cock and then balls, and traced his fingers down his left leg. Draco trembled for a moment but then his body seemed to almost melt from the touch. He let out a long breath then said, "Are you going to tease me or fuck me?"

James pushed one finger into Draco's hole. "Fuck you."

Draco groaned and pushed himself down on James' hand. "God, more, one isn't enough. More," he demanded.

As much as James wanted to put two more fingers in at this point just to make Draco cry out and be reduced to inarticulate cursing and babbling, he resisted. Making Draco wait and demand what he needed was much more entertaining.

James pushed a second finger into Draco, scissoring them and curling them. "Yes!" Draco yelled, grinding against James' hand. James looked down at Draco—his smooth stomach, firm chest, the cords of his neck straining as James worked his fingers in him, his pulse fluttering in the hollow of his throat. Their eyes met, Draco's hooded and dark with arousal. James felt a devilish grin pass his face as he looked at Draco. He slid another finger in.

"God! Fuck!" Draco's eyes squeezed closed, his hips lifting off the bed, pushing harder onto James' hand. James twisted his wrist and spread his fingers, eyes still trained on Draco's face. Draco opened his eyes, caught James' and winced.

"I fucking hate you," said Draco, panting and breathless. "Hate when you look at me. All I think about is you, like this, every time I see you. Want you pushing in me. Fucking me with your hand, your cock, even your tongue. Looking at me like this and I fucking hate you for it."

"How 'bout now?" James pulled his hand free in one movement and in the next lined himself up with Draco's entrance, pushing the blunt head of his cock in just enough. His cock throbbed in anticipation of sliding in. He leaned in close over Draco, almost nose to nose, staring hard, letting his hot breath trail across Draco as he spoke. "Hate me now that it's so close?"

Draco's hands gripped James' biceps, fingers digging, surely leaving bruises. Through clenched teeth Draco said, "Fuck. Me. Now."

James thrust his hips forward, fully entering Draco with one quick movement.

"Fuck! Yes!" Draco called out, back arching. "Fuck me hard. I want to feel every inch of your cock."

James grabbed Draco's hips and pulled him down against him to meet his next thrust. With Draco slick and hot around his cock, James didn't think he could be slow and gentle about it. He wanted to fuck Draco apart, make him so sore that when he asked James for this again in an hour, there would be a hint of hesitation in his voice.

He got into a rhythm, rolling his hips as Draco pushed back against him, yelling things like, "Yeah, like that!" and "I love fucking your big cock!" and groans mixed with curses and blasphemies.

He and Draco had shagged in all manner of ways but never like this. Anger feeding urgency, but the longing they had both felt keeping them from coming too quickly, savouring every movement.

"You told Pansy," James said through gritted teeth, suddenly remembering the discussion outside.

"I told her nothing," Draco said pushing back.

"You're lying."

"That's you," Draco panted. "Never said a word to her." James hated to admit it but he believed Draco. How long had he and Pansy known each other? Forty years? She could have known for months what was going on. Annoyance at people knowing his private matters flared through James and he snapped his hips harder.

James' balls slapped against Draco's arse as he quickened the pace. So good, so perfect. James wanted to come, ached to come. He made to wrap his right hand around Draco's cock.

"No," Draco barked. "Don't touch…I don't want to come."

"I can't—" James panted, sweat breaking out on his forehead and back in his effort not to let go and come.

"Come then. Fill me," Draco said, wrapping his arms around James tightly so that he could hardly pull back anymore.

"Fuck," James groaned, his head dropping down as he rolled his hips, pushing his cock as far as he could inside.

"Like that, yes," Draco breathed, his voice hoarse from yelling.

"God! Draco!" James pleaded as he finally snapped and he came. His cock pulsed over and over as he emptied himself.

James' entire body shook. He felt like he was about to collapse and lie completely spent across Draco, but then Draco whispered a demand, "Lick my arse clean."

Wanting nothing more than to pleasure Draco, make him happy, James pulled his still-stiff cock out and slid down Draco's body. His pushed his thighs further apart and, with his tongue wide and flat, made the first pass at Draco's tender arse. Draco shivered and moaned in reply. James did it again and again, eliciting sound after sound of pleasure from Draco.

He licked his arse, the taste of his own come mixing with the taste of Draco’s skin. If he kept doing this long enough he was sure he could get hard again. It was so good, all of it.

"Suck my cock. Let me fuck your mouth," Draco said.

James groaned and used his tongue to trace a path up from Draco's entrance, across the tender skin behind his balls, across his balls—sucking each one in turn—and finally up the back of his cock. He pulled the foreskin back and swirled his tongue around the crown.

"No one sucks my cock like you," Draco mumbled, trying to push himself further into James' mouth.

"Good," James said and took Draco all the way to the root.

"Yes, fuck, like that," Draco said, burying his fingers in the thick strands of James' hair.

James bobbed his head quickly, flicking his tongue at the right places here, sucking at the right places there. Draco rocked into his mouth and pushed down on his head. "Keep fucking me hard. Just like you did to my arse," Draco said. "So close."

James doubled his effort, moving and sucking on Draco's cock, wanting him to call out more. "Yes! So close—God!" Draco's hips snapped and he yanked on James' hair, pulling him down on him. "Fuck—yes! Fuck!" Draco yelled as he came. Draco's come slid across his tongue and down his throat as James swallowed every drop.

Every last drop now gone, James released Draco's cock from his mouth and collapsed, head cradled on the lower part of Draco's stomach.

"You tell anyone?" Draco said, resting his hand on James' cheek. His voice sounded rough from over-use.

"Huh?" James didn't understand the question.

"Have you come out? Did you tell your parents?"

"No, I'm trying. But—" James' head was foggy with pleasure and he didn't know how to form the words to answer Draco's questions. He should have told him about his brother and sister but right now he could hardly remember his own name let alone that they existed.

"Go home," Draco said coldly, pulling his hand away.

"What?" This James understood, and his head snapped up.

"Get out of my bed and go home." Draco pushed at James to free himself from their entwined bodies.

"I don't understand," James said, getting to his knees.

Draco stood from the bed and looked at James. "Don't you? I have no interest in you and your lies. I got what I wanted. Now leave."

"But Draco—"

"Go home and act straight while you can still taste my come and arse on your lips."

Draco was out of the room in a snap, leaving James broken and unwanted on the bed.

***

James didn't realize until a month later what a shamble his life had become. The most obvious sign being that it was three in the morning and he was sitting in the kitchen, wearing only pants, eating beans and toast and drinking a beer. This was something he only ever did after coming in after a night out. James was here now only because he couldn't sleep—he hadn't been out in ages. Albus tried every now and again to drag him somewhere, but it was always half-hearted. Albus' Healer Training had intensified and he was keeping all sorts of long, weird hours.

The second hint that his life wasn’t as it should have been was the evening he spent with his Gran and Grandpa. James was leaving the practice facility when he heard his name called out from the lobby of the professional offices. He turned around to see his Gran calling and waving after him, his Grandfather in tow. She said they were in the area for the day and were hoping to take him to dinner; they hadn't seen him in so long. James _had_ been at family dinner only two days before so this was a lie, but James went along. Being with them had been excruciating. Gran saying how thin and tired he looked and Grandpa shaking his head. James knew the only reason they were there was because his mum had expressed concern about him. Gran, bless her heart, thought taking James to dinner and buying him ice cream after would get him to spill all his emotions, like he was a child again. Part of James wished it would work.

The third hint that he was in a bad spot was the face his dad gave him when he walked through the back door. "You're up. Or did you just get home?" Harry said, closing the door behind him.

"No, couldn't sleep," James said, pushing the plate of food away, his stomach now completely uninterested.

"Is everything all right, son?" Harry said, pulling off his cloak and laying it across the back of a chair. Harry then gave him that look: eyebrows low with a little crease between them, lips at a pout, and heavy, sympathetic eyes.

"I'm doing great, Dad, can't you tell?" James said, his voice bitter and his throat suddenly tight. "How did everything go?" James asked in hope of deflecting the conversation. Harry had been called out to clean up a mess made by a couple of junior Aurors.

"Fine. Couple memory modifications, no press, and not much else. Being there tomorrow at seven to write the two of them up will be the worst part. It's hardly worth going to bed only to get up in three hours." Harry Summoned a beer and sat down at the table next to James.

"Maybe you shouldn't. Make sure you're good and cranky when you deal with them in the morning," James suggested.

"Good idea," Harry said with a half smile.

They lapsed into silence after this, James peeling at the label of his bottle.

"I haven't been to one of your matches in awhile, maybe I will try and make one next week. You've been playing well. I make sure to at least keep track of that," Harry said with an apologetic note.

"Yeah, I'm playing decent. Better than I was, I guess," James said. James was playing well enough not to be threatened with being benched or, worse, cut or sent down to the reserves, but he knew he wasn't at his best. He was a professional athlete; he could walk onto the field and leave his head and heart out of it, mostly. But every time he scored or made a flashy play he knew Draco was watching and that fuelled his fire to do well.

"You were in a slump before, but you're coming out of it. You can't be the best there is every season. You're still bloody good and a cert for the national team."

"Never been on a national squad before. That'd be something else," James said, grinning despite himself with visions of Quidditch World Cups lighting in his eyes. "Playing for the World Cup…I forgot I wanted to do that."

"I'll take a sabbatical from work and come to every match. I would be so proud of you. Proud of you anyway, James."

"Thanks, Dad," James said, voice tight with emotion.

"Has there been something going on, besides your slump? Your mum, she's worried, you know that. I'm worried too. I know you're a man now and you have a right to your own life and privacy, but I'm still your dad and you can talk to me if…if you felt like you needed someone."

This was it, this was the moment James could tell him. Unburden his aching heart and say 'I'm gay and I hid it before, but now I want people to know because I'm tired of hiding.'

"It was—" A bubble of emotion rose in James' throat and he swallowed around it. "I really fancied someone and they don't want me."

"Did they tell you that?"

"Kicked me out of their house."

"Ouch."

"Exactly," James said, frowning and returning to peeling the label. Harry sat silently, waiting for James to talk. This was how it worked with them; Harry knew silence and patience was the best way to get James to open up. "It's not only that, it's, well…" James stammered.

"You were in love with her," Harry said, trying to help, but it did the opposite.

_Her._

He hadn't a clue. James couldn't tell his dad something like this when he'd just come in from working all night and had to be back at work in only a few hours. This wasn't the time to alter your dad's entire perception of you.

"They were very special to me," James said with a nod. "I'm trying, but it's hard."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, reaching out to pull James into an embrace. "It'll get better."

"Can't get much worse," James said against his dad's shoulder.

"At least there is that," Harry said, and James could hear a smile on his lips. They pulled back from each other and Harry ruffled James' hair.

"You should get some sleep," James said.

"You too," Harry said as they both stood from the table. "Heard your mum is interviewing you tomorrow for a story."

"Yeah, we're going to the Paediatrics' Poorly-Performed Charms Department at Saint Mungo's. She's writing about all the charitable things my team does."

They walked out of the kitchen together, Harry heading for his room and James going up the stairs to his.

"Jamie," Harry said, looking up the stairs at him. "Like your slump, you'll come out of this and be better than before."

Confused, James shook his head and said, "But I'm not playing better than I was before."

"I've got faith in you. You will," Harry said firmly, then continued down the hall to his room.

*

James let out a mighty roar that sent kids screaming and running in all directions. He chased them as best he could, but he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees and wear this mask he could hardly see out of.

In his peripheral vision he saw a flash of purple to his right—the little girl whose parents had brewed a bad batch of Anti-Coughing Potion--Emma, maybe Emily. No matter, that had to be her, the potion had turned her skin bright purple.

James roared again and turned swiftly to his right, catching sight of her and grabbing her round her waist. She erupted into giggles as he tickled her.

"Oof," James said, being taken from behind as a child jumped on his back to rescue the girl from him. Then another jumped on him and his knees buckled. Finally a third landed and he had to release her to keep from collapsing on her.

"YEAH!!!" one of the kids screamed, holding him tightly by the neck.

They all began to pile on top of him. and for a minute he thought he might not be able to breathe. Luckily the ward matron started yelling, "Enough! Enough! Let Mr Potter up!"

Slowly, one by one, the kids rolled off James, slower to get off of him than they were to get on. Finally the last one got off and James stood, his knees cracking as he did. He put his arms straight over his head to stretch his back. He caught sight of his mum watching from the side, a large smile on her face. He grinned sheepishly back and pushed his fringe off his forehead.

"We need photos with Mr. Potter, then he has to go. Lunch for us then some rest," the matron said, snapping her fingers. The kids groaned, but all anxiously huddled around James. Ready for their photo.

James looked down at the kids, all of them well enough but some of them with the physical signs of magic gone bad: extra ears on one, a full beard on another, no teeth on one, and over-sized teeth on another. They would all be all right eventually, but it still made James' heart ache a little to think about these kids stuck inside a sterile hospital when they should be outside screaming, muddy, and hitting trees with sticks.

He put his arms around as many as he could and called out directions for each photo. First tongues out, then tongues to noses, then cheeks puffed, a scary face, a silly face and, lastly, their best smile.

Some of the kids wanted hugs goodbye and he happily obliged, but most scampered off as the scent of food wafted into the ward.

The matron thanked James graciously, making him blush. Really, it was no bother coming, he was happy to do it, but she continued to praise him effusively. She finally released his hand and darted away to keep kids in line. James and Ginny took the chance to make their quiet exit.

"Want lunch, my treat?" James offered.

"Of course," Ginny replied.

"Should we go try and find Al?" James asked.

"He's home sleeping, got in sometime after your dad."

"You and me then," James said, offering his mum his arm, which she took, and they walked out of the hospital together.

They got to the restaurant where James wanted to eat and were forced to wait, the lunch rush already in full force. They sat on a bench outside together, staying close to create a barrier from the cold November air.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Ginny said, looking at James with a smile.

"Is this on the record or can I tell the truth now?" James teased and Ginny playfully pushed him.

"You are fantastic with children. A natural."

Ginny didn't say it, but James could see it in her eyes; she thought he would make a great father. She imagined a future like her mother's, grandkids running about the house and holidays where nothing could be heard over the sounds of children.

"Mum," James said, looking down at her warm brown eyes. He couldn't do it; he couldn't let her imagine a future for him that was never going to happen. He couldn't let her carry on a wish and then have it shattered in some horrible way. So there, on that London street, sitting together on a bench, James told her. "I'll have to be the world's greatest uncle then, because I don't think I will have children of my own."

"Don't believe the rubbish they say about riding a broom and what it does to your reproductive abilities. Your dad used to ride a broom all the time and it only took one try with all of you. It's utter bollocks, brooms damaging your balls. Your balls are just fine."

"God, Mum," James said, wincing. "Please don't talk about my balls or you and Dad. Jesus!" James shuddered. "It's not that at all. I'm gay."

Years later, James wished he'd had a camera to capture his mum's face at that moment. Looking back, the expression was priceless. At that moment, however, it wasn’t quite so amusing. She looked like she had been hit.

"You're what?" she said.

"I won't be having children because I don't intend to ever be with a girl again."

"Is this because of what happened with this girl?" Ginny said. "Your dad told me about your conversation last night."

"Dad assumed it was a girl. I never said so."

"You mean all this time…all this time…you've been…" As Ginny struggled to find the words she looked ahead at the street, shaking her head more. "You've been seeing another boy?"

"Man, Mum, he's a man, and yes."

"How long?" She turned, looking at him.

"How long was I seeing him for or—"

"No, how long have you known. Known that you were…"

"Seventeen," James shrugged, not getting annoyed that his mum couldn't say the word yet. "Pretty sure I knew then, only wondered about it before."

"Six _years_? You've known for six years and you're getting around to telling me now. James Sirius," Ginny snapped. "Why would you do such a thing? You could have trusted us!" He could see anger and hurt shining in her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears. James didn't like hurting his mum. He put his arm around her to comfort.

"I knew you would have been OK with it…eventually," James started.

"No, no. I know, James. I understand, you don't have to explain," Ginny said, shaking her head and patting his knee.

"What do you mean?" James said, feeling wrong-footed.

"It's all or nothing with you. Either everyone knows or no one knows. You had your reasons for keeping it private and I can't begrudge you that. Doesn't mean I'm not _hurt_ by it, but I understand."

Despite the awkward angle of sitting side by side on a bench together, James wrapped his other arm round Ginny and pulled her into a tight hug. He buried his face in her hair and for a moment thought he might cry because sometimes he took for granted how much he was loved by his family.

"Is he…was he your first… _boyfriend_?" Ginny said, wiping a stray tear from her own eye.

"No," James said, not offering details because he wasn't about to go that far.

"Is it someone we know? A school friend perhaps? Oh God, it's not Teddy is it?" The look of horror on Ginny's face was enough to start James laughing.

"Teddy? What's wrong with Teddy?" James said as he continued to laugh.

"Nothing, of course," Ginny said. "It would be odd is all. He's been like a brother to you."

"Teddy's straight," James said, finally containing his laughter. "He was a neurotic mess when I told him. 'What? You're what? James, you don't fancy me do you? My arse is nice, but do blokes like it too? Merlin, have you been looking at my arse all these years?'"

He looked at his mum to see if she found this funny, but she was looking down at her hands concentrating very hard on them.

"What's wrong?" James asked.

"Nothing. I only figured you would tell your dad and me first. You told other people, though."

"Oh, I," James took a deep breath. He'd never really considered the order, only thought his family should know first. "I haven't told the world. Al, Teddy and Lily that's it, but Lily claimed she'd already figured it out."

"Your dad doesn't know," Ginny said. It was a statement not a question. "You can't ask me to keep this from him."

"No, I'll tell him."

"When?"

"Soon."

"No, James. When? You'll think of excuses or let things get in the way. You have one week. That's it. One week and if you don't, I'm sitting you down with the both of us and making you tell him then." Ginny looked at him with a fierce determination James wasn't about to argue with.

"OK."

He hugged her again and looked over his shoulder to see if their table was ready yet. People in line behind them were already sitting down.

"Looks like we missed our spot," James said.

"That's fine." Ginny stood, pulling her bag back onto her shoulder and reaching for James. "Let's go home and your old mum can make you a sandwich."

"You are not old, Mum."

"You are a sweet boy. Let's go."

***

The taste and smell was thick in the air. Victory. It surrounded James and his teammates. They celebrated as if they had just won the cup rather than a middle of the season match. No one was changing out of their robes; they were all too busy celebrating.

It had been a brilliant match. James had played like he had wanted to play all season. Perfect, flawless. His mind had been focused the whole match, he seemed to know every right move to make. He caught, threw and scored perfectly. They had defeated the Arrows 330-40, and the Arrows were a more than decent team. He could feel his slump firmly behind him.

As they all began to move to undress and shower James caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was still wind blown—not that just anyone would be able to tell—his cheeks pink and his eyes were practically glowing. His black dragon hide knee length boots were caked with mud from taking off and landing. Even his black robes had mud splashed across the back from rolling off his broom five minutes in to the match to avoid being hit by a Bludger. Luckily he had been close to the ground and was able to roll and get back on his broom without losing the Quaffle.

Miraculously his bright orange knee length trousers were completely clean. He flipped up the back of his robes to check his arse but no mud there either. His trousers were cut tight across his arse, gaps and folds in fabric chafed even with the best of cushioning charms. No one could ever appreciate how good his arse looked in the trousers as the view was usually obscured by his robes. Draco had appreciated his arse in them. That was never going to happen again though. Or perhaps…

It suddenly felt like a brilliant idea to go find Draco. James didn't know if it was the euphoria of victory or someone had slipped him Felix Felicis that carried him out of the changing room, but he wasn't going to stop and think about it. Thinking was seriously overrated.

Everything felt good. He was still carrying the warm glow of the conversation with his mum and now that he was truly back on his game he couldn't imagine an interaction with Draco going bad.

Out of the changing rooms, he turned towards the door leading to the boxes but heard his name being called behind him from the tunnel entrance to the field. It was Draco.

James did his best not to smile like a fool at him as he walked up to meet him.

"Well played, James," Draco said genuinely.

"Thanks. I could feel it today, you know?" James said, standing too close to Draco than was normally socially acceptable between two people. "I knew we would win today. That I would win today. Could feel it leading up to the match, all morning."

"You've always underestimate your abilities as a leader on the pitch. It's why Pansy and I recruited you so aggressively. You bring something intangible and unteachable to the pitch that elevates your entire team."

"Blimey," James said softly, feeling himself blush a little bit. Draco didn't pass out praise like that. "That means a lot coming from you." James looked into Draco's eyes to show he was truly touched. He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he was allowed but finally reached out and lightly took Draco's hand.

"Your hand is cold," Draco said looking down at it. "It's red as well, both of them. I don't understand why you don't wear gloves, especially as cold as it is."

"Can't grip the Quaffle well enough. Besides, I never notice," James shrugged and carded his fingers between Draco's deepening the touch. This made Draco back away, but James stepped to him, almost leaning over him.

"Draco, I—" James began, not sure if this was the time or the place, but it felt right. "I want you to know, that I'm trying and—"

"James?"

James and Draco both turned their heads at the same time towards it, though somewhere in the back of James' mind he knew who it was. He also knew how it must look. James couldn't make this out to be something different than it was. He had Draco's back pressed to the wall and was holding his hand and leaning over him. The intimacy between them was clear.

" _Malfoy,_ " Harry said, his voice no longer sounding surprised.

"Potter," Draco said back.

This was bad. Very bad. James had heard his dad and Draco call each other by their surnames before, but it had been a very long time. They had been cordial with one another since James had made the jump to the Cannons. Even the few occasions that James' parents had been to Draco's house or in the family box they had all got along rather well.

Harry waved his hand, pointing at the two of them, "Is this why you worked your arse off to get my son on your team?" It was clear what Harry was leaving unsaid, but Draco didn't bite.

"I don’t catch your meaning." Draco quirked a brow.

"Dad, Draco," James said, trying to step in before it got ugly.

"That your interest in him had nothing to do with the Quidditch pitch."

"You're going stand here and insult your son like that? Have you not got eyes in your head? You just watched an unbelievable display of his talent as a player and you think I want him here for his good looks and my own selfish desires? God, Potter, you're worse than ever. It's not enough to accuse me of abusing my position to find myself some arse but to belittle James' skills so, you are beyond the pale."

"Draco," James whispered in censure. He knew his dad didn't mean that.

Harry flushed. "I did not say one thing about James and his skills! Don't you dare insinuate I don't know exactly how bloody fantastic _my_ son is!"

James swiftly moved to stand between them and tried to get them to stop. "Dad, Draco didn't mean—"

"You've obviously missed something, because he is here on skill alone. The Minister must be so proud of how brilliant his Head Auror is when it comes to putting the pieces together."

"You don't know one damned thing about how I do my job!"

"And you don't know a damned thing about mine," Draco retorted.

"Like hell, I don't. You brought James here so you could change him, convince him he wants this, wants a bastard like you!" Draco blanched horribly at this, and was ready with a retort, but James yelled first.

"Dad!"

Harry's head snapped up at this and for the first time seemed to realize James was standing between them. "Draco did nothing like that. He didn't _change_ me or trick me into wanting him. Hell, I thought he'd reject me at first. I wanted this. All of it."

Harry looked at James, wide green eyes blinking over and over. Sometimes Harry's eyes were too bright for James; he could never look in them and lie. They saw right through him. Now, at this moment, James had no problem looking back. Harry blinked again then looked at Draco and back at James. He cleared his throat and said, "My Auror skills indeed—" Harry waved his hand vaguely at a loss for words. "I'm late for—"

"Dad, no, please wait," James said, reaching for him.

"It's fine." Harry turned his back and walked out the door.

James turned to Draco to apologize. Draco's face was still hard with anger. "This is what I hoped to avoid," Draco said

"I'm sorry. I'll fix this. I promise," James pleaded. "I have to go home. I have to talk to him now." The desire to finally have it cleared up and finished filled James like never before. It was time for this all to end. He had to fix things with his dad before he could even hope to reconcile with Draco. He gave Draco his most heartfelt and apologetic look then turned and went after his dad.

*

"Dad?" James called, running into the house. James ran through the kitchen to the fireplace to check and see if he'd beat his dad here, that Harry had Floo'd and not Apparated like James did. No, the fireplace was clean, no ash anywhere.

"Dad?" he called again, walking down the hall to his parents' bedroom. It was empty.

James walked to the stairs and ran into Albus.

"What the hell happened?" Albus said, pointing over his shoulder. "Dad's here and he's in a right state. What did you do?"

"Nothing, Al, go away," James said, squeezing past Albus to go up to his dad's office.

"Jamie, make sure you keep your wand out. I haven't seen him this upset since we set fire to Gran's chicken coop and told Lily she needed to go in and rescue the chickens."

James looked sharply over his shoulder. It was that bad?

Once Lily had recovered from a violent coughing fit and was able to tell what happened, James and Albus thought it would be Mum who punished them, but Dad got to them first. James knew it wasn't the lecture and yelling that Albus was referring to. It was when James had looked defiantly at his dad and told him to 'relax', that it was a non-burning fire, that Harry truly lost it. It was the only time James thought his dad just might hit him. Harry's eyes wide, his jaw twitching with fury, Harry hadn't, of course, but it was the first time James had been truly terrified of his father.

James wasn't a teenage boy now. He would go and face his father like the man he was.

"I know you're bigger than him and you've got youth on your side, but if it comes to wands, I'll be your second," Albus said lightly, but his look was sincere.

James turned around looking at his brother not sure if he should say 'thank you' or laugh. "I'll yell if I need you," James said dryly and continued up the stairs.

He went up one more floor to the second floor of the house. It was where the guest quarters and Harry's office were. The door to the office was partly closed and James could hear banging around inside. James paused and steadied his nerves. If he was as angry as Albus said he was then James wanted to keep calm. This bit, this talking with his dad would be rough, but he had to remember it would make it better, make everything better…eventually.

James slowly peered around the door and saw Harry crouched down rummaging through a cabinet, muttering something. He stood, slamming the cabinet doors shut then kicked them exclaiming, "God damn it, Ginny!"

"What did Mum do?" James asked, surprised where Harry's anger was focused.

Harry didn't look at James but stood with his hands on his hips staring daggers at the offending cabinet. "She took my bottle of Firewhisky because we ran out when we had people over last week and forgot to replace it."

James tried not to grin as he said, "Need a drink that bad?"

Harry glanced up at James and replied, "I've just had one hell of a shock. Course I need a drink." Harry huffed and turned back away and began pacing the small room. "God damn it, James!" Harry yelled, running his hands through his hair.

"Here." James pulled out his wand and conjured two glasses full of clear cold liquid. "It's Belvedere, the kind Al keeps in the freezer that you can never remember the name of."

Harry looked at the glasses sitting on his desk, but then his eyes moved past them.

Behind his desk was a shelf cluttered with family photos. The photos spanned about thirty years of Harry's life. He and Ginny young newlyweds, James and his siblings at various ages, including what James knew to be Harry's favourite photo: Al and James, little boys bundled up in coats, standing in front of Harry who was holding baby Lily on one side and a freshly cut Christmas tree on the other. They were all proud as peacocks in the photo because they had found the tree together. Al and James kept pointing to the tree, Lily's mouth was moving jabbering something, and Harry look from the tree to his kids, beaming at all of them.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "James, I don't even know where to start," he said.

James couldn't help but snort at the irony and said, "I feel exactly the same way. What's more upsetting, that I'm gay or the Draco thing?"

Harry winced and said, "Draco—no—it's that you deceived me. You hid this for—I don't even know how long! How long?"

"Which one?" James fidgeted. It was hard holding still when his dad was staring at him with his eyes blazing that way. "With Draco or the other?"

"The other. No, Draco. No, both!"

"Since I was seventeen. NO! Not Draco," James said . Harry looked like he was about to go to Draco's house and kick his arse, right after he kicked James'. "Draco only for a little over four months, but then we er…" James waved his hand, hoping it explained that they had broken up.

"It was _him_? That's who you were talking about that—"

"Kicked me out of his house. Right, yeah," James said with a nod.

"Jesus, God. That means you—that you two have—" Harry couldn't get out the words, and it was a rare sight indeed to see Harry unable to articulate his anger.

"Yeah, we—er—have," James said, coughing and looking away from his dad. It wasn't easy looking at your parent while you admitted you and your partner had loads and loads of sex, some of it really kinky and rough. Not that James said anything close to that, but he was sure the look of horror on his dad's face showed he was thinking the worst.

"Forget Malfoy for a minute. _Seventeen?_ And you hid it all this time? God damn it, James." Harry rubbed his hands through his hair again.

"I'm not sure what to say," James admitted.

"Say something! Why the hell did you hide this from us?"

"God, Dad. Not even Mum demanded to know that."

"Your mother knows?" Harry yelled.

"No! It's not like. She's not hiding anything. I only told her a couple days ago," James said quickly, not wanting to get his mum in trouble for keeping a promise to him.

"Well, I've learned not to assume that I know the answer even if you're pretty sure what it is. And right now I'm going with that because I'm feeling pretty damned blindsided and I'm feeling like a really shit dad."

James looked at his dad, horror stricken. That could not be further from the truth.

"Did you think I wouldn't accept you? Did you think I wouldn't love you all the same? What were you thinking? You’ve done some thoughtless things in your life, but this takes the prize. How could you not even give us a chance? We're your _family_!" Harry's eyes suddenly shone a little more than usual. James had never felt worse in his life, making his dad cry was a whole new level of bastard that he had never even aspired to.

"I knew you wouldn't care," James said, his voice trembling as emotion rolled up in him. He sniffed doing the best to hold back the tears he could feel already burn in his eyes. "Knew you were the last person who would. You've always been the best that way. Letting me be myself. Never foisted the name Potter or Weasley on me. I was always my own person to you, to Mum." Tears flowed free down his cheeks now. He wanted to turn away from his dad. It was embarrassing sobbing like this, like a child. Over two months, he'd been going through all this shit, for over two months and he'd held it together not to cry in front of anyone. Now here he was blubbering in front of the last person he wanted to cry in front of—no second to last. Al would be merciless if he cried.

"The thing was," James carried on, not going to stop now. "I carry that name _Potter_ , and don't misunderstand, I'm proud to be your son. But we stick out in the world. All of us, a little less than you, but I don't think I've lived a single week of my life without your name in the paper. We can hardly go anywhere without people noticing you and us. If I'm gay then the whole sodding world will know. And I can take that, but they would wrap the rest of you into it. You would become 'Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and father of poof Quidditch player James Potter…' and Albus and Lily wouldn't just be your kids anymore, they would also have a gay brother. It's a lot for a person. I couldn't do that to you. And it's not like it's something interesting about me; it's a fact that carries people into _my_ fucking bedroom. It is the most personal place they could go. I can never be in the paper again without it mentioned that I fancy blokes and you all know what that means." James wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Jamie," Harry said and immediately the tone caught James off guard. James had only heard it a few times in his life, his dad's voice low and heavy with emotion. His dad sounded hurt, honestly in pain, James had only heard that tone used on him one other time, it wasn't a moment James cared to remember. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sorry you can't be yourself because you're my child."

James shook his head. "Don't, Dad. You had nothing to do with it. It was all me and my own stupid thoughts getting in the way. I should be more like you, should be strong enough to ignore people and not let it bother me that they would sneak into my bedroom and take pictures if they could."

Harry sputtered a laugh, "I don't know, that would bother me, too."

James hiccoughed a laugh too and chanced a glimpse at his dad who was still looking at him.

"Sorry, Jamie," Harry said, voice thick. He opened his arms and went to James, pulling him in a tight embrace. "Knew you were hiding something big. I couldn't quite figure out what exactly."

"You didn't know it was _this_ big," James said into his Dad's shoulder.

"You are _my_ son. You're twenty-three and I can still tell when you're lying. I can tell what you're thinking. I know you about as well as you know yourself and I wager better in some situations."

"What did you think my great secret was then?" James said incredulously.

A shout of laughter escaped Harry's mouth before he answered, "I thought you were dating a Muggle."

"What?" James pulled back to look at his dad's face to see if he was joking. "Why a Muggle?"

"It was either that or you were too embarrassed about us to bring someone home to meet us," Harry said a little defensively.

"Never embarrassed," James said seriously.

Harry pulled James into another hug and said, "Me either."

As Harry ruffled his hair and pulled away he said, "Tell me about Draco. Do you love him? No, wait, don't answer. Should I drink my drink first?"

"You might want to," James smiled.

"Does he feel the same about you?" Harry asked seriously.

"Not anymore."

"What happened? Why'd he kick you out of his house?"

"He didn’t know I wasn't out. Found out he was the only one who knew," James said guiltily.

"You're not serious," Harry said, picking up his glass to take a sip of it.

"You're making it out to sound worse than it was," James said back.

Harry sighed heavily and said, "You know him better than I do, or at least I hope you do. But James, Draco would not appreciate the way you made him look like a fool."

"I didn't do that!"

"James, you thought about yourself and didn't think about your…partner. I know you aren't selfish that way because to you your intentions were in the right place. You were keeping everyone happy. But haven't you noticed how well this secret keeping has gone over? I'm surprised you've survived telling everyone else but me. You've made all look like idiots for one reason or another. No one likes looking dumb."

James nodded, thinking about this. "You do know you're giving me relationship advice about Draco Malfoy, don't you?"

Harry laughed loudly at this. "It did occur to me. But I want you happy."

"Thanks, Dad."

"You should go talk to him."

"I know."

"And one last thing before I drink this drink. If they start calling me 'father of poof Quidditch player James Potter' I'll be more proud then ever. Nothing makes me happier than being reminded how bloody lucky I am to have you."

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you too."

*

James was out of his Quidditch robes, showered and in fresh clothes. He wanted to look presentable for this. He walked through the common garden of Parallel Place up to number thirty-seven and knocked on the door, something he had never done for anything other than official reasons.

It took Draco a minute, but he eventually opened the door. He looked better than James remembered, even having just seen him a few hours ago. His robes were off and he was in trousers, and first two buttons of his shirt were undone and his shirt-sleeves rolled up. His shirt was light blue, James' favourite colour on him. His eyes looked striking. He looked at James, stuck his head out and looked around then back at James.

"What's the matter?" James asked, looking over his shoulder to see if he'd missed something.

"Making sure you aren't here so your father can ambush me. It's unexpected for you to come to my front door."

"My dad would not ambush you," James said.

"You're right. If he wanted me dead, he would have barged in," Draco replied.

"May I come in?" James asked.

Draco took a slow breath then nodded, stepping to the side to let James pass.

"I came to say sorry."

Draco crossed his arms and raised one brow at James. "For what exactly?" he said.

James sighed. This wasn't going to be easy, not that he deserved it to be easy. "I'm sorry I hid so much from you. That I didn't tell you right away."

"You made me look like a complete and utter fool."

James had to cough to cover up the laugh he felt. His dad had been right. "I know, and I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because no one knew and I didn't know how to start. I _should_ have told you. I was stupid. I was trying to protect everyone by not telling them."

Draco looked at James with pity in his eyes. "That never works, you know. I could have told you that. You try to hide, keep secrets to protect people you love, and you end up hurting them more than had you been true to yourself."

"I'm figuring that out," James replied.

"We all have to some time. At least you're young and not thirty-two and married like I was."

James couldn't help but gape at Draco. As much as Draco shared with James he didn't talk freely about things in his life that had been particularly trying and James would never ask. He wasn't going to ever ask Draco about the faded Dark Mark on his left forearm, or about his father, nor about his marriage and divorce.

"Don't look so shocked. I didn't wake up, decide I was gay, tell the world and everyone was fine with it. It was hell. Fortunately for me I had no compunction to tell everyone. Mother and Astoria, that was it. Pansy knew of course. Mother told me not to bother telling my Father, she would do that, and Astoria…" Draco shrugged. "She tried to curse off my cock. Horrible aim though. You, no doubt, feel like you have to tell everyone."

" _Told_ everyone," James corrected.

"Did you now?" Draco said, looking mildly impressed. "Did you leave me to go over to the Weasley compound and make an announcement?"

"There is no Weasley compound," James said rolling his eyes.

"Where do the great big litter of you gather then? Can't rent a hall, that would get too expensive for as often as you get together. Though not for your Uncle George, I suppose."

"Do you want me to keep apologizing or would you prefer we talk about my family gatherings?" James huffed.

"Do you have more to apologize for? You've said as much as I think you need to say, but if you would like to grovel, I am all ears," Draco said, his eyes lighting with mischief.

"No, not grovelling today," James said and he could feel his face flush. "I'll save hands and knees for some other time. But I wanted to tell you, it's no great secret anymore. They know. Not my entire extended family, only Mum, Dad and such. Everyone else can find out. I'm OK with that."

"Took your dad seeing it for you to tell them?"

"He was the only one who didn't know, everyone else I had already told. I was planning on telling him this week anyhow. He was in a right state when I went home," James said with a bit of a laugh. "I'll leave you be now. Wanted you to know I did my best to make it right and I'm sorry."

James reached for the handle of the door, but Draco stopped him. "You can't leave like that," Draco protested.

"No?"

"I put you through hell. I know that. Used you and kicked you out of my bed, all to get it through your thick head that you hurt me."

"I said I was sorry and if that's not enough then that's just too damn bad," James said, but Draco held up his hand to stop him from going any further.

Draco paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes and began again. "I _accept_ your apology. All of it. I was only trying to tell you, I wouldn't have been that way if it hadn't hurt like it did. It was rough for you and as much as I know what it's like I couldn't stop myself, it hurt... _a lot_. I tried to justify it to myself that even if I was a complete shit at least you weren't going to forget me. Good or bad."

"I couldn't forget you, not for one second. I never thought you were a _complete_ shit, only…" James held up his hand with his thumb and index finger a tiny bit apart to show a little bit.

"Only that much?" Draco smiled. "I thought you were the world's biggest shit."

"I suppose that means I win," James said arrogantly.

"If it means that much to you, then yes." They both grinned at each other, the wrinkles at the corners of Draco's eyes once again making James' chest clinch. Draco reached out and brushed his fingers across James' cheek and with that touch to his skin James knew what Draco was thinking. "Come upstairs."

James leaned forward to kiss Draco but stopped just as his nose brushed along the side of Draco's. _Was this it?_ Was he allowed to go ahead and kiss Draco the way they used to kiss and love him the way they used to love? But even more now, bring each other fully into their lives? They would leave these couple months behind and move forward? Together? All these thoughts collided in James' head.

Draco opened his eyes, looking into James'. The warmth in the storm-cloud grey and the hint of a nod from Draco was all the reassurance James needed. The answer to all of those questions was yes.

James closed his eyes and brought his mouth to Draco's. With their mouths on each other, Draco pulled gently on his lower lip. James rolled his tongue to brush against Draco's mouth. Draco opened his mouth, pulling James in and deepening the kiss. A shiver ran down James' spine. It felt so good.

Suddenly he found himself desperate and aching for everything. He ran his hands down Draco's firm chest to the line of buttons on his shirt and began tugging them open.

"No," Draco said, pulling back, his breath heavy and hot on James' face. He buried one hand in James' hair and clung to James' arm with the other, keeping James close. "No, we're taking our time. We're going upstairs to do this properly."

"I can do it properly standing here in the hall," James said, nipping Draco's lips and pushing his hips against Draco’s so he could feel his already firm cock.

"I know, but that's different," said Draco, peppering kisses on James' face and neck. "I want you in my bed. I want to touch you, kiss you, lick you, love you like I used to. Slowly. Take my hand, come upstairs."

"All right," James said, sliding his hand into Draco's. "Take your time."

James' heart almost stopped when he saw Draco's bed. The place he never wanted to leave and he was finally back. It was more lovely to look at and comfortable than he had remembered during all those months away from it.

The sheets felt cool and soft under his heated skin as Draco kissed down one side and up the other. The pillow cradled his head as Draco licked a path down the column of his spine, pushing James prone to the bed. Every bone and muscle melted against the soft mattress as Draco dragged his fingers up the back of James' thighs to his arse. The pillows and covers muffled James' groans and cries of pleasure as Draco cupped his arse, spreading it apart. James felt a rush of cool air but the wet heat of Draco's mouth quickly replaced the feeling. Draco swirled his tongue slowly, opening the outer ring of muscles.

"Don't bury your face in the bed," Draco said, his voice thick with arousal. "I like hearing you. Like hearing you say my name."

"Oh, God. Fuck. Draco," James panted as Draco once again sucked on James' tender skin.

"Good," Draco whispered across James' flesh.

James rolled onto his back just before Draco entered him. He liked seeing the colour high in Draco's face, his hair falling across his forehead as he lost control, rolling into James over and over.

Draco took his time, like he said he would, telling James he would fuck him for hours, make up all the lost time in one fuck. He pulled James close for kisses and reached down to tease James' nipples and slowly work his way to James' cock. With the first touch, it was already wet with pre-come, aching to finish and explode. Like the motion of his hips, Draco stroked James' cock extraordinarily slowly.

James cried out, arching his back to push hard onto Draco's cock, and thrust up into his hand, wanting to come. But with each tender touch, each muttered endearment, James also didn't want it to end. He wanted to be touched and loved like this forever or until Draco took his pleasure from him.

Finally too desperate to wait, James cried out, begging Draco to make him come. Draco's eyes locked on his as he brought him to completion. As James came, all he could see were those eyes watching him, drinking him in.

To James' surprise, Draco didn't come then but still slowly rocked into James. He whispered to James how beautiful he looked when he came, how good it was to hear his name crying out from James' mouth. Draco kissed him tenderly and threaded his come-covered fingers with James'.

A sheen of sweat shone across Draco's chest and brow as he continued to thrust slowly…slowly…slowly. Draco whispered to James that he would come again and this time Draco would with him.

James cock stirred at the words, at the way Draco's cock filled him.

They moved in time, Draco gripping James' thighs tightly. He could feel Draco pushing in deeper and deeper. As their arousal built to a breaking point, they both began to curse almost incoherently, James saying lord knows what while Draco enumerated the many virtues of James' arse.

When James came this time, he took in all of Draco. Beautiful and lithe above James, his muscles jumping as he thrust. Pale blond hair, not a hint of grey, heavy with sweat. His lips puffed and as red as his cheeks. Draco threw his head back as he cried out, emptying himself into James, the cords in his neck visible along with the thrumming of his pulse. As Draco slowly lay down on top of James, that was the first place James kissed him, on that still racing pulse.

Sweaty and sticky, James and Draco wrapped themselves round each other, holding each other close, not wanting to let go. They stayed there, only wanting to be together.

********

Draco was nervous, James could see it. He stood behind a small copse of bushes, pacing and smoking. He may have even been talking to himself. Perhaps trying to talk himself into this, possibly out of it. A wicked smile slid across James' face. Draco didn't know James could see him from here. It wasn't nice to let him stand out there and suffer. James should have been comforting him. He left his upstairs window and went downstairs and out the front door to greet Draco.

"What are you doing?" Draco snapped, having been caught off guard, as James came round the corner.

"Came for a fag. Got one?" James said.

"No, this is my last one," Draco said, taking one last drag before tossing the butt on the ground and stepping on it to put it out. With a flick of his wand, he Vanished it.

"That wasn't very nice. You should've shared with me," James said, pretending to pout.

"Pity," Draco said, his tone harsh.

"What's the matter?" James reached for him, but Draco pushed him away, too agitated to be held.

"I'm a bit nervous if you hadn't gathered," Draco huffed. He dug in his inner robe pocket, pulled out a fresh cigarette, and lit it.

"Hey! You said that other was your last one."

"I lied," Draco said with a shrug. "Besides, I deserve it. Remember, I'm about to go into your parents' house and have dinner with them."

"They're lovely. Even Al is a stand up bloke. You'll be fine," James said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Your dad and I used to not get along," Draco said in a rush.

"I know, I've heard."

"I don't expect it to get much better. He won't think I'm good enough for you. Thinks you deserve—I don't know what exactly, but someone much better than me. Not that there's anyone better looking--well, there's you, but you can't bugger yourself. _Jesus_. I was a fucking moron agreeing to this," Draco said, still manically puffing on his fag.

"You are wonderful and they'll think so, too. Now stop. I wasn’t this much of a mental case when I went to dinner with Scorpius and your mother," James pointed out.

Draco waved away James' words with a gesture of his hand. "You and Scorpius don't have nearly the bitterness your dad and I had at one time."

"No?" James tapped on his two front teeth. "Had to get these grown back my fifth year after he punched them out. Bloodied up his hand real nice."

Draco stopped pacing and looked at James.

"Come now, be a big boy. They'll be nice. Besides you've got on with them fine when they came to your house."

"This is different though," Draco pointed out, but then was cowed by James' best Ginny Potter glare and Vanished the cigarette he was smoking.

"Wish Lily was here," Draco whined as James took his hand and led him up the garden path. "I like her."

"She's extremely disappointed too. Got an owl this morning with a five-page letter about it. But don't worry, she'll be here at Christmas."

"Christmas?" Draco yelped. "No, this is a one time thing. I am _not_ coming round for holidays. You may visit me at the manor."

James chortled and opened the door. "Mum! He's here!" James bellowed, pulling Draco inside.

"What the hell was that?" Draco hissed. "Yelling for your mother that way. You can't find her like a civilized person who doesn't go about calling people like dogs—"

"Mum," James grinned as Ginny came around the corner, wiping her hands. "May I present Draco Malfoy." James gave a courtly bow to punctuate his introduction.

"Oh, James, stop," Ginny said with a smile.

"Mrs. Potter, it is my pleasure to see you again. May I say your home and garden are lovely," Draco said, the nervous hysteria completely gone from his voice, replaced by a perfect, well-bred tone.

"My—goodness—thank you," Ginny said as Draco leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"I also brought you these, I hope you don't mind. They're from my mother's hot house. She sends her regards." Draco pulled out a thick, lush variety of summer flowers from thin air.

James thought he heard his mum giggle as Draco handed them to her and was _sure_ she blushed. God, he was going to charm the pants right off her.

"If you'll excuse me I'll put these in some water and check the dinner and I will be right out. James, be a good boy and get Draco a drink."

Albus appeared out of nowhere as James was about to take Draco to the sitting room.

"Hello, you must be Healer Potter," Draco said, offering his hand for Albus to shake.

"Albus is fine, or Al," he said, taking Draco's hand and firmly shaking it.

"You'll forgive me, but you look so much like your father it's almost frightening," Draco said. James wasn't worried; if anyone could take a barb it was Al.

"I used to be him for Halloween every year. Easiest costume I had," Albus replied and Draco laughed. "Haven't done that in years. Now I just use it to get laid." Draco laughed as hard as James had ever seen him laugh. Leave it to two sodding Slytherins to get along so well.

As James poured them all a drink, Albus said to Draco, "I've seen you're one hell of a biter."

"Albus!" James said, whipping around to look at his brother. Albus laughed and darted from the room before James could curse him.

"What was that about?" Draco asked, but James was unable to answer as Harry appeared in the doorway. The silence for a moment was almost palpable.

"Mr Potter," Draco said, walking up to James' dad and putting out his hand.

"It's nice to have you here, _Draco_."

"Thank you, _sir_ ," Draco said, a small glint of humour in his eye. Harry's lips twitched at the corners, and he rolled his eyes at the honorific.

The conversation was luckily kept short as Ginny announced dinner and they moved to go into the dining room. James walked with Draco, his hand on the small of Draco's back.

"Before we eat, there is something I need to say," Harry said, stopping them in the corridor. "Draco, I want to apologize to you for the things I said on that day. When I saw you and James…I know you mean a lot to James and that whatever your intentions are with him, they are good and not the unprofessional things I accused you of. I know you're not that sort of man."

Draco looked firmly at Harry and gave a short nod to show he accepted the apology. Harry nodded back and then continued to the dining room.

"You doing all right?" James said, taking a moment to whisper in Draco's ear as they took their seats.

"Yes, of course," Draco whispered back. "I am wondering if the only reason you are seeing me is because I'm not impressed with famous Harry Potter?"

"Yes, of course. The jig is up."

"Damn, I was hoping it was that and maybe the good sex," Draco said back.

"Oh, that too." James slid his hand under the table, squeezing Draco's thigh. "That and your magnificent—" James let that word hang and flicked his eyes to Draco's crotch before continuing, despite the colour high on Draco's cheeks. "Your money is nice too, but I don't need that. There are about five million other things, but we can talk about those later when we're back at your house."

"Merlin," Ginny said, about to grab a dish and serve herself. "You don't expect us to say a prayer first, do you?" she said, looking at Draco.

Albus laughed, and James snorted and said, "Don't worry, Mum, Draco's not religious. Unless you count saying 'Oh, God'." Ginny and Draco both looked sharply at James, while Harry coughed and looked away.

An evil grin slid across Albus' face as he said, "When exactly does he say that, James?"

James and Draco replied in unison, "Shut up, Al."

_fin._  



End file.
